Up Where We Belong
by SylvieT
Summary: Grissom comes home. Need I say more? It's a little fluffy – all right, very fluffy – and indulging and tongue-in-cheek because as we all know I miss the man terribly. GSR, and a half.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the story I've always maintained I'd never write. Well, kind of. But I had this redundant scene from my other story that needed using and I figured a lot of you need cheering (you know who you are) and since there are fewer and fewer GSR stories out there, I indulged. I promise I won't make a habit of it. Those of you who like my more angsty stories will not like this one. Sorry. It's…a little fluffy – all right, _very_ fluffy – and indulging and tongue-in-cheek, but hopefully it will bring a smile to your faces. Let me know, and who knows I might indulge again and write a second chapter.

The choice of title is a little nudge to _An Officer and a Gentleman_ and its famous factory scene where Richard Gere sweeps Debra Winger off her feet. You know the one…you can hear the music…Love lift us up where we belong…

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Up Where We Belong.

* * *

"Where to, Sir?"

Grissom slung his travel bags into the back seat before sliding inside the darkened cab next to them. "3057 Westfall Avenue," he replied without hesitation as he pulled the rear door shut.

The driver gave a nod, and after buckling up Grissom leaned his head back against the seat. Closing his eyes he let out a long, tired breath, thinking he was home, at last. Well almost. He could have opted to go straight there, of course, take a much needed shower and grab a few hours' sleep, but what good would that be when Sara wasn't there to share in the experience?

He knew she'd be at work, but he also knew for a fact that she wouldn't be in the field, and as the flight had neared landing this naughty idea had taken root in his mind. With a little luck he'd be able to spring this surprised return on her at the lab and literally whisk her off her feet. A giddy smile formed at the thought. Another fifteen minutes and he'd make that happen. God, he couldn't wait.

"You in Vegas on a visit?" the driver asked, drawing him out of his reverie.

Grissom blinked his eyes open, meeting the driver's gaze through the rearview mirror. "No," he said, his smile widening pleasurably, "Vegas is home. I'm…coming home."

The driver craned his neck, taking in Grissom's travel-weary appearance. "You look like you've been gone a long time," he remarked amiably.

The driver's words gave him pause. His hand came up to his face, scratching at his untrimmed beard. "I have," he replied before adding a little musingly, "Too long." Unwilling to encourage the driver's friendly chatter, Grissom turned his head away, averting his gaze to the Vegas skyline looming in the near distance.

The driver must have got the message, because the conversation stopped after that, and Grissom let his eyes drift shut again. This time the breath that left him was one of contentment and wellbeing at being back. He'd been on many, many trips since his year in Paris, a week doing consultancy work here and there on the mainland, punctuated by longer stays abroad, but he'd never felt as homesick as he had on this last month-long trip. He'd done his work with the same care and diligence but his mind, his heart wasn't in it, and on the interminable return journey home he'd made a decision. This trip would be his last.

Lulled by the unvarying drone of the car's engine, he felt himself starting to drift off, and he wondered briefly if he was doing the right thing heading straight to the lab; maybe he should have gone home and waited for her there instead. The thought of taking off his sweaty clothes, of standing under the warm spray of the shower and maybe even catching up on a little sleep seemed rather appealing all of a sudden, but then again so did the thought of Sara being there, eagerly sharing in all these things with him.

"Sir?"

The driver's voice startled him awake. He snapped his eyes open and stared, for a moment disorientated, before focusing his gaze on the driver looking over his shoulder at him.

"You sure you have the right address?" the driver asked, staring back at him with puzzlement.

Wiping the blurriness from his eyes Grissom looked over to his right at the familiar glass building and a smile forming nodded his head. "Yeah, I have," he said, and realising what caused the driver's confusion added, "This is where my home is." He checked the fare on the meter and, after pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket, took out three ten-dollar bills. "Keep the change," he said as he paid, and gathering his bags let himself out of the cab.

Excitement made his heart thud quickly in his chest. Turning, he scanned his eyes over the lit-up building before reaching down for his bags and crossing the lot to the main entrance with a spring in his step. Soon, Sara would be in his arms again, and he would be able to see first hand the new changes in her. Hearing about it on the phone wasn't quite the same.

What if he wasn't allowed access inside the lab, he wondered with sudden worry? 5.00 am was hardly a time for a social visit. But he needn't have fretted, for the woman minding the front desk had once been one of his most fervent admirers.

"Judy," he said, as he had done hundreds of times over the years, "Have you seen Sara?"

Judy's head snapped up from her reading. "Dr Grissom, Sir!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise as she jumped to her feet, "You're back!" The smile that danced on her lips was wide, pleasurable and very wistful. A dainty hand rose to toy with a curl near her ear while, entranced and dumbstruck, she stared at him.

"Sara?" he reminded her, amusement twitching at his lips.

Judy gave her head a shake, refocusing. Her smile lost none of its sparkle. "She's around somewhere," she said, then brought her hand to the microphone of the PA system. "You want me to call her for you?"

"No," he said quickly before leaning in toward her and adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "I want to surprise her."

A blissful sigh escaped Judy's parted lips. "How nice," she mused, awestruck.

"Do you mind if I leave my bags with you?" he asked, bringing her back down to earth. "I've come straight from the airport."

"Sure," Judy purred, eyeing him with envy. "I don't mind at all."

Grinning, Grissom dumped his bags behind the reception desk, and with a parting wink that made Judy's legs turn to jelly hurried down the maze of corridors. The place seemed strangely quiet as he peered inside the various rooms and offices, and when his search for his wife yielded nothing his feelings of joyful anticipation made way to crushing disappointment. He was rounding the corner into the locker room when a woman called a loud and snappy, "Excuse me?" that stopped him dead in his tracks.

He turned and watched with a frown as the woman swept a narrowed gaze over the length of him. "Can I help you?" he asked with puzzlement.

Slowly she lifted her eyes back to his face and smirked. "I was about to ask you the same question. This area is not open to the public."

Grissom's face lit up in understanding, and he lifted a placating hand between them. "I can explain," he said, and scanned narrowed eyes over the badge hanging around the woman's neck for a name, but without his glasses couldn't make out much of anything. "You must be Morgan," he said on realising she wasn't wearing a lab coat, and extended his hand to her, "Nice to meet you. I'm―"

Before he could introduce himself fully, the woman's right hand had shot to her hip while her left one lifted like a shield in front of her. Grissom's eyes widened, his introduction dying on his lips as his hands immediately flew up to his side, as if in surrender.

"Morgan?" she exclaimed with disbelief and laughed. "For that alone, I should shoot you."

Grissom did a double take at the comment. "I'm sorry," he said and lowered his hands by his side. "If you're not Morgan, you must be Finn. I've heard a lot about you too."

The woman's brow shot up in surprise. "You have?" she exclaimed, and slowly scanned her eyes from his head all the way to his toes. She must have liked what she saw because when she brought her gaze back to his face she had relaxed her stance and was grinning broadly. "And you are?"

"I'm Grissom," he said, as though his name alone was all that was needed, and extended his hand again.

Clearly it wasn't. "I'm sorry," she said, looking puzzled as she kept a hold of his hand longer than strictly necessary after shaking, "But I still have no idea who you are."

He thought about replying that he was Sara's husband, but remembering Sara had deliberately kept her maiden name for work so as to distance herself from him and all that his name had represented didn't. Growing impatient at the delay, he pulled his hand out of her grasp and said, "I'm…looking for Sara. Have you seen her?"

Finn shook her head again. "Last I saw she was in Supervisor Russell's office. Breakfast was mentioned."

Grissom's heart sank at the news.

"But maybe _I_ can be of help," she then said, her wide smile still present.

Grissom registered a look of surprise at the slightly predatory edge in her voice. Was she flirting? With a married man she'd only just met?

Movement beyond Finn's shoulder caught his attention and spying Hodges not-so-discreetly watching the scene through the DNA lab's plate glass window thought it a good time to retreat. Smiling, Hodges lifted his hand in a friendly wave and Grissom found himself returning the smile a little stiffly.

"I can't believe it!" Hodges said, quickly joining them. "It _is_ you."

"Hello, David," Grissom replied.

"You two know each other?" Finn asked with puzzlement.

"Of course," Hodges replied, a smug smile on his face, "You must have heard Grissom's name mentioned in this lab. The man's a legend."

Finn crossed her arms over her chest. "Can't say that I have," she replied, smiling and eyeing him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"Finn's not been here that long," Hodges went on as an aside to Grissom. "She's…Catherine's replacement."

"I can hear you, you know, Hodges," Finn said curtly, "and I'm no one's replacement."

"Anyway, David," Grissom said, thinking it now a grave mistake not to have gone home and waited for Sara there, "you don't happen to know where Sara is, do you?"

"Sure," Hodges said pleasantly, "she's in the garage with Nick."

"If you'll excuse me," Grissom said, swiftly stepping past both, "But I'm in a hurry."

Hodges gave a worldly nod. "Don't be a stranger!" he called as Grissom rushed away.

"Who was _that_?" he heard Finn exclaim, but he didn't hang about to hear Hodges undoubtedly very detailed reply.

Sara stood with her back to him, bent under the hood of a truck, wrench in gloved hand. Just as he was getting to her Nick rolled out from underneath the truck, looking up directly at him. A smile of pleasure spread over the CSI's face. Grissom brought a shushing finger to his lips and Nick nodded in understanding.

"The underside's all clear," Nick called to Sara as he pushed up to his feet and dusted himself off.

Sara straightened up with a wince, her hands moving to her lower back for support. "Well, I can't see any signs of tampering here either," she replied in a sigh.

Wiping a hand across her brow she slowly turned toward him and Nick. Their eyes met. Her mouth opened in surprise, but no sound came out, and she gazed at him, slack-jawed. The breath caught in his throat, and he stood there, mesmerised at the sight of her. She looked radiant, truly resplendent in her blue coveralls. Her hair was pulled back in her trademark ponytail, loose strands hanging over her eyes and the smudge of grease on her temple. His hand twitched by his side, wanting to brush the hair back and touch her face. But he didn't, lest he broke the spell. And when his eyes filled with tears, hers did too despite the wide, dancing smile now adorning her lips.

"You're back," she stated, and suddenly feeling as dumbstruck as Judy had been earlier on seeing him he could only nod his reply.

His eyes slid down her face to her open neck and the black tank top she wore underneath that he knew would be straining over her breasts and rounded stomach. "I was going to sweep you off your feet," he said, finding his voice at last as he brought his gaze back up to her face, "but I don't think I can."

Nick gave a snort of laughter. "Not without doing your back in, that's for sure," he said, clasping a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Grissom's eyes narrowed. Then he slowly turned his head toward the younger man and threw him a meaningful look.

Nick laughed and squeezed his old mentor's shoulder again. "So, Sara," he said, taking his cue nonetheless, "I'm…going to go…grab myself a cup of coffee. You want one?" Her eyes fixed on Grissom Sara shook her head in reply. "Griss?"

"No, thank you, _Nick_," Grissom said pointedly.

"Okay, okay," Nick said in another chuckle, and lowered his hand from Grissom's shoulder, "I get the message. I know when I'm not wanted." He made to leave but then thought better of it, whipping back around toward them still standing two paces from each other. His head was shaking in amusement. "You've got five minutes, Sidle, not a second more. I want to finish this before the end of shift. I've somewhere to be too!" And then as he left, "it's good to see you, Griss. Maybe we can catch up properly soon."

"Do I not get a kiss?" Sara asked when Nick had finally gone.

Grissom took a step closer and then another, finally closing the distance between them until their stomachs touched. His hands came up, lifting to her face, pushing her hair away from her eyes, and he stared at her at length, wanting to commit this moment to memory. Sara's lips parted, releasing a breath and closing his eyes he pressed his lips to hers, lips as soft and familiar to him as his own. Her mouth yielded, opening further for him, tasting of home, and as she draped her arms around his neck he deepened the kiss with all the fervour he'd been keeping in for too long.

His body's response was immediate, the tightening of his pants testament to that. The surge of love that filled him at that moment was almost too much to bear. His coming there was a bad idea. What was he thinking? Four weeks in the Amazonian jungle did that to a man. Coming back to his senses, he pulled himself away from her and remaining within the warm cocoon of her embrace rested his forehead to hers. They stared at each other for a moment, before he pulled her into his arms again and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"God, Sara, I've missed you so much," he said, warm breaths wafting back off her skin sending shivers of pleasure down his spine, "So very much." He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, filling his nostrils with her scent, a strange heady mixture of shampoo, motor oil and impeding motherhood.

"Sara," a voice called, and startled they sprang away from each other, "Hodges' results came back positive. There's—" Just as Grissom was turning toward the doorway the man looked up, stopping dead in his tracks. "Everything okay, here?" he asked Sara.

The smile beaming on Sara's face was blissful and totally unconcerned that they'd almost been caught smooching in the CSI garage. "Sure," she replied breezily. Taking Grissom's hand in hers she added excitedly, "DB, this is Gil, my husband."

"Gee, Sara," Russell said, deadpan despite the wide grin pulling at his lip, "You don't say. So, you're the illustrious Gil Grissom," he added, shifted his glance over at him.

Smiling, Grissom leaned forward to extend his hand, which Russell shook warmly. "Nice meeting you," he said.

"Likewise," DB said with a glance at Sara. "I take it…this little rendez-vous is a surprise?"

"What do you think?" Sara replied, tongue-in-cheek, but Grissom didn't miss the way she looked down at herself a little self-consciously while her hands moved to straighten up her hair.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said, suddenly unsure, eyes flicking between his wife and her boss hesitantly. "I don't know what I was thinking coming here." He gave a scoff of disbelief. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't think. I don't want to cause any trouble. I just…"

"No, no, no," Russell cut in vehemently. "It's fine. In fact, it's better than fine. I'm happy you're here and we're meeting at last. I was beginning to think you were a figment of everyone's imagination." His eyes flicked to Sara's stomach and he winced. "Well, not exactly that but…you get my drift. It's nice to finally put a face to the name." He gave his head a shake and refocused on Sara. "Anyways, I'm sure Nick and I can finish up here. Why don't you… and hubby go home and…" his face softened with a roguish smile, "put your feet up or something."

Grissom's brow lifted. He glanced at Sara who was still looking radiant and seemingly very comfortable with the situation. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signs earlier. "If you're sure," Grissom said, "That'd be great."

Sara snapped her head around to him, eyes open wide in amazement that he'd so readily accepted, and he gave her a small shrug.

"Oh, I'm sure," Russell said, adding as he turned on his heel, "Nice meeting you, Grissom. We should do breakfast soon."

After Russell had left and wearing matching giddy smiles Sara and Grissom turned toward each other. "My previous boss," Sara remarked, looking a little demure, "he wasn't so…laid-back and forgiving."

"No?" he said, feigning indifference.

"No." She pinched her lips but her bright smile escaped anyway. "Marriage changed him, though."

His face softened with a tender smile. "For the best, I hope."

Sara leaned across and kissed him languidly on the mouth. "Oh, yeah," she said, pulling back from him a little, her hot breaths playing havoc on his senses, "Definitely for the best."

She stepped back from him, and for a moment, they stared at each other, their faces solemn and full of promise. Then Grissom reached across and pulled her to him by the lapel of her coveralls. "Let's go home," he said. "And finish what we've started."


	2. Chapter 2

Grissom lingered in the doorway and watched, mesmerised at the sight of his seven-month pregnant wife lying in the tub. The changes that had taken place in her during his absence were remarkable and only served to validate his decision not to go away for any length of time again. He could see it so clearly now, how much she had grown and matured, physically of course, but also emotionally.

She looked peaceful, tranquil even, with her eyes closed and her head thrown back against the edge of the tub, as she slowly rubbed a lazy, protective hand back and forth over her rounded stomach. The soft, wistful smile on her face told him she was thinking about the baby growing inside her, that she was already bonding with it, and that made him feel a little sad and sidelined.

Sara was his wife, his companion, but now she was also the mother of their unborn child. Her role in their relationship had shifted and he hadn't been there to see it happen. She was a mother, carrying his child, and yet she was also the object of his sexual desire. How did one reconcile the two, he wondered?

She was so beautiful, so desirable in that unguarded moment that he was loath to break it. He looked down at himself, clad only in pyjama bottoms, fresh out of the shower, and pinched his lips, chastising himself for what he knew to be an involuntary, most natural reaction. When he glanced back up Sara was watching him. Her expression was serious now, her eyes dark with unconcealed desire that he knew mirrored his own.

He swallowed and eyes locked to hers pushed off the doorframe, silently closing the distance to her before kneeling down by the edge of the tub. He smiled, and touched the fingers of his right hand to her face, stroking around her right eye, at the dark circles under it. His gaze left her face trailing down her neck to her breasts, two pale islands floating in the water. Her nipples were so much darker now, so much bigger too as they stood pert and inviting.

He lowered his hand to them, a tentative caress of his fingertips before withdrawing hesitantly, and brought his eyes back to her face. Was it okay to still touch her, to still want her in a sexual manner now that the baby was so clearly _there, _he wondered? The soft and perceptive smile on her face as she stared back at him, as if knowing exactly what was going though his mind was answer enough, but still he wasn't sure.

"How's your back?" he asked tenderly.

"Better," she replied. "Hot water always helps." Her face brightened suddenly, and she lifted her hand off her belly, reaching for his on the rim of the tub and placing it where hers had just been. "Feel," she said in a wondrous whisper, pressing down on her stomach with their joined hands.

Grissom's eyes narrowed uncertainly, then widened in amazement as he felt the baby squirm. The smile that formed on his face was one of pure enchantment and he watched, transfixed and awestruck, the surface of her skin distort and ripple as the baby moved within her. An elbow, or maybe a foot, or a knee, he figured. His eyes lifted to her face, wide and incredulous. He had no words to describe how he was feeling at that moment.

"She's awake," Sara said.

"_She_?" he challenged with a rise of his brow, just as he felt another, stronger kick under his hand. His head whipped back to her belly, his heart quickening with excitement. "Oh, my god, Sara! You said on the phone you could feel the baby move, see it move, but I thought you were talking of flutterings. I never could have imagined…" He trailed off with a disbelieving shake of the head.

Her hand lifted off his on her stomach to his cheek, gently turning his face toward her, and rising up out of the water she pressed a kiss to his lips. "We're going to be parents, Gil," she said, mirroring his anticipation.

"We already _are_ parents," he amended, his tone more sedate now, and gave a wistful sigh.

Staring at him, Sara gave a grave nod, then lowered her gaze to her stomach and stroked her hand to its side before looking back up to him. "This baby is the most beautiful gift you could ever give me, Gil. Thank you."

Grissom's face softened with love. "Oh, Sara, just to see you like this it's…" he shrugged, "I can't express what I'm feeling right now, how overwhelmed, how honoured you make me." He paused and stared at her, hoping that he could convey what he couldn't with words through his expression, then reached over for a flannel which he dipped in the water. "May I wash you?" he then asked uncertainly, lifting his eyes back to her face as he wrung out the cloth.

Sara's mouth opened in a silent gasp of surprise then closed as nodding her reply she closed her eyes and turned her face slightly away, offering her neck to him. After lightly soaping the washcloth he gently began running it over her skin. Small circular patterns that started at the long line of her neck before slowly working downward to her shoulders and arms, then her breasts and over every inch of her stomach down to her nether regions.

Her legs, bent at the knees, parted slightly at the touch, causing his hand to drop lower and the breath to catch in his chest. He felt a twitching inside his pants, the familiar longing growing deep inside him. Sara repressed a shiver, goose bumps suddenly popping over her body and, his hand stilling, he stole a glance at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed and her breath coming out in short pants though parted lips and he felt her move deeper into the water as she sought his touch. Her pleasure at his ministrations was evident and yet Grissom couldn't make himself go further.

"Don't stop," she said in a pleading whisper, and he knew exactly what she was asking and normally he would have been more than happy to oblige. Her eyes when she opened them were dark with desire, desire he knew he clearly mirrored, but with a hard swallow he made himself pull his hand and gaze away.

"The water's cold," he argued weakly, pushing to his feet and pulling the towel from the rail, "You should come out."

Sara paused and stared at him for a moment before nodding her head and holding out her hand to him. Gripping it tightly, Grissom helped her up to her feet, tepid water cascading down the length of her body as she stood, flowing over the brim of the tub. He ran his eyes over her glistening body before bringing them back up to her face as she stepped out of the bath. Seeing her like this did nothing to diminish his ardour. Quickly, he draped the towel over her shoulders and began gently rubbing her dry before unhooking her old, flowery silk robe from the back of the door.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked, helping her into her robe, too small now to fit around her waist.

Smiling she shook her head and took his hand in hers, tugging him backward out of the room. "Let's go to bed," she said, taking the initiative. The yearning still present in her gaze told him she wasn't tired, and dumbstruck he gave her a nod.

Silently, Sara led him to their bed, turning him around so that his back was to it, and pushed him down into a sitting position. His legs parted of their own accord, and she stepped between them, her body tantalisingly close, yet not touching his. Eyes locked to hers, he reached up and stroked his hands over her stomach before bringing them to her breasts and kneading the soft flesh. Maybe he could reconcile the wife/mother dilemma after all, he thought. Maybe he could just pretend the baby wasn't there.

Closing his eyes at the rush of arousal surging through him he sat up straighter, slipped his hands underneath her open robe and pulling her to him brought his mouth to her breasts, in turn kissing, licking and teasing around one nipple and then the other. The moan that escaped Sara's mouth was low and needy. They didn't have to go all the way, he figured, maybe they could just take care of each other's needs separately.

Sara wriggled her shoulders free of the robe, letting it fall to the floor and lifted her hands to the back of his head, pressing him harder to her. "It's okay to do this," she said, breathless, and gently pulled his face away from her breasts. They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Sara gave him a soft, uncertain smile, and when he nodded his head that he was ready she pushed him back onto the bed. Holding his gaze she traced feather-light fingertips down the length of his chest to his navel, and when his stomach muscles contracted at her touch slipped them under the elasticated waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

His eyes drifted shut and he took a sharp intake of breath as stroking him she eased his pants down before clambering on the bed beside him. Grissom turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, watching her. His free hand came up to her face, pushing a lock of hair away from her eyes while hers brushed along his cheek and jaw.

"Make love to me, Gil," she said, and leaned in toward him, their lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss at first which soon deepened more urgently. His hands began the familiar exploratory trip downward, and he felt the baby move. His body tensed up and breathing hard he pulled back from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked with puzzlement.

Pinching his lips he rolled onto his back, pulled his pyjama pants back up to his waist and stared at the ceiling. He felt the mattress dip as Sara shifted. He turned his head, looking over at her watching him. "Honey, I'm sorry," he said, reaching across to brush more hair away from her eyes. "I want to. I really do, but I don't think I can." He paused and shook his head. "It's the baby…I feel like…I know it's going to sound silly and totally irrational but…I feel like it knows what's happening. Worse than that, it's like the baby's watching me."

Sara's lips pinched together tight but she couldn't prevent a snort of laughter from escaping.

"I'm glad you're finding it funny," he said in a little mock-aggrieved pout, and sighed.

Her smile was wide and teasing but she didn't laugh. She rolled onto her side and draped her arm over his chest, snuggling close to him, while he slipped his arm under her shoulders, holding her to him. Closing his eyes he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"It's normal to be feeling the way you do, confused and a little reticent," she said after a moment, looking up at him, "But there's no way on earth the baby can know what's happening. It's just…not possible."

"I know that," he argued.

She paused and studied him, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth in that seductive come-hither look she knew he could never resist. "What if you don't look? What if you…close your eyes, or look toward the wall?" she asked, and he couldn't help smiling at the slightly desperate edge in her voice.

"I tried that."

Her lips twitched in amusement. "I read about this," she said, musingly.

"You did?" He sounded unconvinced.

She mumbled her acquiescence. "In my book."

"And what does the book say?"

Sara gave a shrug. "It says not to force the issue, that the 'block' is most likely temporary. That _dad_," she said miming quote marks, "just needs a little time to adjust. I read that it's normal for sex drives to go up and down like a yo-yo during pregnancy. Mine, or yours."

"Oh, my sex drive is perfectly fine," he said, resolutely.

She smiled at his tetchiness. Her hand lifted to his face and she trailed a lazy finger down his bearded cheek to the corner of his mouth and over his lips. His mouth opened, kissing at her fingers. "We've made love while I was pregnant before, though. It never bothered you. What's changed?"

"What's changed?" he asked with disbelief, and reached down his hand, curving it over her softly rounded belly. "I felt the baby move, Sara, that's what's changed. Before that…I could pretend it wasn't there. Now, not so much." He took in and let out a deep breath and turned onto his side, facing her. "There's a baby in there, Sara. Our baby. I can't believe how much you've grown, how much difference four weeks have made." His expression brightened. "I've made a decision. I―this last trip was my last. I don't want to be away from you or the baby anymore. I don't want to miss any more of it. Maybe then, seeing you so big wouldn't have been such a shock and we wouldn't be having this block now."

"Big?" Sara challenged with a narrowed eyes. "Did you just call me big?"

His eyes lit up with mischief. "I love you," he professed earnestly. "You know that, don't you?"

Sara's face softened with a smile and she nodded. "And _we_ love you too," she said, teasing.

He gave a chuckle. "I promise that from now on I'm there, to see you and him grow."

"_Him_?" she said, laughing.

His face became tender, his smile thoughtful. "Or her."

Sara shifted out of his embrace, then reached across him to the bedside table and picked up the ultrasound picture of the baby she had propped up against the bedside lamp. A soft smile on her face she reached for a pillow which she placed under their heads, then resumed her spot in his arms. She lifted the picture so they could both look at it and stroked her fingers to it.

"I think we're having a little girl, Gil," she said, and looked over at him. Her expression was solemn, but her eyes shone with unconcealed happiness, and he knew she was no longer teasing.

Grissom made a face. "You think, or you know?" he demanded, suspicious, narrowing his eyes at the grainy picture.

She pushed up on one elbow, meeting his eyes dead on, and kissed him softly on the lips. "I promised I wouldn't ask and I didn't," she said, holding his gaze, "But I think it's a she."

Grissom folded an arm under his head and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for the sonogram," he said, his tone on the forlorn side.

"You were."

He turned toward her. "On the other end of the phone doesn't count."

"You were there for the first two," she said, her left hand moving to his chest, fingers threading through the grey hair there. "This one was no different, and you heard all there was to say. Everything's fine and progressing as it should."

He gave a nod. "What?" he asked, drawing the syllable out and a smile forming on noticing the sudden twinkle in her eyes.

"I've a surprise for you," she said. "I was going to keep it for later, but―" He watched with a frown on his face as she pushed off him and off the bed, then reached for her robe on the floor and, pulling it on, indicated with a jerk of the head that he should come with her.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled, as he got up.

An enigmatic smile to her lips Sara took his hand and led him out of the bedroom down the corridor. The door to the spare room was open a crack and Sara motioned with her head that he should go ahead and open it. Grissom stared at her uncertainly before hesitantly pushing the door and stepping in. The curtains were drawn open, sunlight flooding the room.

"Oh, Sara, it's…beautiful," he said, eyes scanning every inch of the room she'd painstakingly painted a pale yellow. The old baby crib they'd bought second hand from a yard sale still stood in one corner, untouched and needing a lot of TLC and a fresh lick of paint.

"I thought you could do the crib," she said, hopeful.

Surprised, he turned toward her and nodded his head with a smile, then flicked his gaze back to the room. "I can't believe how much you've done!"

"You did all the hard work, clearing the room. Besides…I had a lot of time on my hands with you away and everything." There was a pause. "So, you like it then…the colour, I mean. I know you liked the green too."

He looked over at her and met her hesitant gaze. "Honey, I love it." He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. "It's…perfect."

Sara's smile was soft and very loving. "Your mother came round," she then said, gently tugging him over to the crib, "and brought this."

He dropped her hand to pick up the white crocheted baby blanket hanging over the edge of the crib. "It was mine," he said, turning incredulous eyes toward her.

"I know. She said it was the only thing she had left of when you were a baby."

He put the blanket down. "I don't know what to say, Sara. You just blow me away."

A smile of mischief pulling at her lips she nodded her head to the door. "Come on," she said, taking his hand, "let's get back to bed."

He lay down behind her in a spoon under the bed sheet and pulling her to him, snuggled his face in the crook of her shoulder before draping his arm around her, his hand involuntarily falling onto her naked breast. She liked to sleep in the nude these days, prone as she was to sudden body temperature rises. Or so she'd claimed. His body stirred, as he knew it would, and he tensed a little around her.

"Just let's go to sleep," she said, and yawned.

"Let's," he said, and closed his eyes. But sleep didn't come, for neither of them. "I was thinking about what you said," he said a short while later, pressing his lips to the soft spot directly behind her ear that he knew she favoured. As expected, Sara repressed a shiver, and smiling he inched a little closer to her, keeping his lips tantalisingly close to her skin and his erection nestled against the small of her back.

Sara made a sound, a low moan of pleasure as writhing she sank deeper into the mattress. When he began to trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder and his hand slid from her breast to her hip and upper thigh, stroking and teasing near her sex, Sara half-turned, her mouth seeking his and her body his touch.

His smile broadened at the response. "Keep your back to me," he instructed in a firm whisper, "I think that way I can make it work."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't know where this one came from, but there it is, more GSR goodness for this festive season.

The books Grissom look at in the store all exist…at least in the UK.

_The Expectant Father__: Facts, Tips, and Advice for Dads-To-Be_ by Armin A. Brott.

_The Daddy Guide: __Real-Life Advice and Tips from over 250 Dads and Other Experts_ by Kevin Nelson.

_My Boys Can Swim__!: The Official Guy's Guide to Pregnancy_ by Ian Davis.

_The Gift of Fatherhood: How Men's Lives are Transformed by Their Children_ by Aaron Hass.

_The Father's Book: Being a Good Dad in the 21__st__ Century_ by David Cohen.

* * *

Grissom was humming along to the song playing on the radio, so totally engrossed in his sanding that he never felt the pair of eyes watching from the doorway. He'd been at it for an hour now and the muscles in his arm – and legs – were beginning to ache. Jetlag and the excitement buzzing through his body had kept sleep at bay, and even the warmth and closeness of his sleeping wife snuggled in his arms hadn't been able to keep him in bed.

He was going to a dad.

A dad, and the realisation had only just sunk in. He'd known that for a little more than seven months now, but until earlier that morning when he'd watched Sara in the tub and then felt the baby move, he hadn't realised just what it meant. He was going to a dad. There would be a baby soon, a baby, and after seeing how much Sara had done with the baby's room in his absence he had to get started himself.

And so he'd brushed a kiss to his wife's shoulder and had carefully extricated himself from the tangle of sheets and limbs. He'd paused by the bedside and had watched with rapt fascination Sara sleep with a protective hand over her stomach before quietly making his way to the baby's room. He'd stood at the threshold for a long moment, staring at the old crib with his own baby blanket draped over the side, and made plans. A lot of plans. And after brisk walking Hank around the block he had got cracking.

A smile formed on his lips as finally he felt her stare on him and he stopped sanding. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling the dust mask off his face and turning toward the doorway, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Leaning against the doorframe, she wore a wistful smile on her face and the robe that she couldn't tie round her waist anymore over one of his T-shirts. Her eyes were full of sleep, full of love as they gazed at him. She was glowing. The hormones, he figured, or maybe the afterglow of their love-making earlier – oh, he'd gotten over his block, all right – but whatever it was, she was the beacon in his life.

"Don't stare," she said in a shy smile, "I feel big enough as it is."

How could he not stare when she was so beautiful? He made himself glance away and holding on to the edge of the crib pushed up off his knees with a wince, dusting himself off with the back of his other hand. A lump had formed in his throat and he had to work hard at forcing it down. "Go back to bed," he bid softly, bringing his gaze back up to her face, "it's still early."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Only if you come with me."

"I can't." He looked down at himself, clad in an old T-shirt and jeans and sneakers over bare feet, still covered in pale thin dust. At least he'd remembered to put a dust sheet under the cot covering the floor. He lifted his latex-gloved hand holding the sanding block and shrugged. "I got to finish this now that I've gotten started. Sorry."

"Gil," she said, and pinched her lips to stifle her growing smile, "You've got all the time in the world to be doing this." She brushed a little hair away from her face. "Come back to bed."

Grissom's mouth pursed to the side in hesitation. His shoulder lifted, but however tempting the offer was he declined it with shake of the head. "I can't. Honey, the baby's almost here."

The smile she'd been trying to hide finally broke free, wide and amused. Her hands joined over her bump. "This baby isn't ready to come out – not for another three months."

"I know that. It's just that…" he shrugged sheepishly, "I don't want to be caught unprepared."

With a sigh Sara pulled her robe tighter around her and then padded barefoot inside the room to the old chair he had pushed to one corner. She brushed her hand over the seat before sitting down on it.

"What are you doing?" he asked in puzzlement.

She made herself comfortable and gave him a soft smile. "If you won't come to me, I'll come to you." Her shoulder lifted. "I read about this. It's your nesting instinct kicking in. It's perfectly normal."

Grissom registered a look of surprise. "Nesting, huh? And you read that in your book?"

Sara's smile broadened. "It's a good book. Very thorough. You should read it some time."

Grissom's mouth twitched at her blatant teasing, but he didn't take the bait. He had a look around the room, his eyes finally settling on the crib, and trailed a gentle hand over the rim, brushing dust off. "All this dust, it's not good for you. Or the baby."

"Then you're going to have to stop," she said firmly.

Grissom surveyed the work he'd already accomplished and content he had done enough for now nodded his head at her. "You're right," he said, finally relinquishing his hold over the sanding block. He turned toward her. "I need to go to Home Depot anyway. I'm going to need more supplies – sand paper and some white primer and paint and brushes too. I thought I'd do the crib white?" Excitement had crept into his voice, and he paused, letting his question hang between them, suddenly hesitant.

Sara's smile was as soft and loving as her tone of voice when she replied, "That's what I was thinking too." She got up from the chair, joined his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Mindful not to get dust on her, he carefully lifted his over her shoulders and they stared down at the empty crib like two proud parents. He could already see it in his mind a few months from now; the two of them in the same pose, gazing at their sleeping newborn baby.

"I'm going to fix it up real nice," he said, his voice full of pride and excitement, "repair the lock on the swinging mechanism, make it as good as new."

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Sara said, and he turned toward her in surprise. Looking down at her stomach, she was patting the hand not holding him over her rounded belly.

"God, I hope so," he replied earnestly, and she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back at her, thinking that he couldn't wait to see that baby in her arms. "Come on, then, let's get some breakfast. I'm famished. You?"

"I'm always hungry," she said in a giggle.

"Still eating for two?"

"Oh, yes."

Laughing, he pulled his gloves off and dusted some of the dust off the front of his T-shirt and forearms. "Let me get cleaned up," he said, stepping past her, "and then I'll see what I can rustle us up."

"Not so fast," she said, moving toward the door and barring his exit, "I think you're forgetting something." A smile twitching, Sara tapped her index finger to her lips.

Quite happy to oblige he dropped a quick kiss to her mouth.

Sara's right eyebrow arched and she draped her arms around him as far as they'd go, trapping him inside. "I think you can do much better than that," she said sweetly, inching her face forward until he could feel her hot breaths on his lips.

His smile widened. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

"A month is a long time," she purred. And she was right of course, a month was a long time and he knew that better than anyone. So he took her by the hand, led her out of the baby's room and set about showing her just how long a month was. His earlier block was well and truly forgotten and his trip to Home Depot could and _would_ wait.

When three hours later they walked out of Home Depot the sun was beginning to set. Grissom slid his hand to the small of her back, guiding her across the car lot to the car. He couldn't help but smile with pride, of course, but also with amusement at the fact that he had to slow his pace right down to accommodate Sara's more measured one. "Where to now?" he asked, as they got to the car.

"Home?" Sara hazarded in a chuckle.

Grissom pulled a face and made a dubious sound. "I got a better idea," he said, and ignoring her questioning look opened the door for her to get in.

After stowing the bag of materials into the trunk Grissom took his place behind the wheel. He watched with a cocked brow Sara struggle pulling the seat belt over the bulge but wisely refrained from commenting. Without wasting time he buckled his own belt, turned the engine on and backed out of the spot. Instead of taking the southbound turn on the Expressway, headed home, he took a left toward North Vegas. As they began to pick up speed he reached over to switch the radio on and began humming along to the tune.

"What's gotten into you?" Sara asked in a giggle.

He turned a wide smile toward her. "Nothing," he said, "I'm just happy. Happy to be back."

She watched him with narrowed eyes for a while and then shook her head, laughing. He watched from the corner of his eyes as she refocused on the passing scenery, her expression changing to one of bewilderment.

"Gil, where are we going?" she asked after speeding past yet another exit.

He glanced over at her and winked. "You'll see soon enough. We're almost there."

"You know I got shift tonight, right?"

"We'll be back in plenty of time." He dropped his hand to her knee. "Trust me with this, okay? You're going to like it. I promise."

"All right," Sara laughed, and five minutes later as they pulled in the giant car lot of USA Baby store Sara turned to look at him, a shocked expression on her face. "Wow," she said, and then, "You sure about this?"

His shoulder lifted. "No. But we're going to have to do it some time, right?"

"But you hate these places."

His face softened knowingly; she hated these stores just as much as he did. "We're just going to take a look. See what's out there."

"Well, I was kind of thinking we'd do all that online," she said.

"Coward," he laughed. "We're just going to take a quick look, I promise." He found a spot near the entrance, parked up and then helped her out of the car. They were stepping through the sliding doors when he thought better of it. "Start looking around," he said brightly, turning back, "I'm going to grab a cart."

"A cart?" he heard her exclaim, but he didn't hang about to see the expression on her face.

The sliding doors opened again and he pushed his cart in only to stop dead in his tracks at the sheer size of the place. Maybe Sara was right and this wasn't such a good idea after all. He looked left, then right and then left again, scanning a quick eye between the displays looking for Sara, and needless to say she was nowhere to be seen. Whereas only a week ago he would have felt overwhelmed and most probably walked straight back out of the store, not this time.

He took in and blew out a deep breath and then took a left towards where the cribs and cots and other nursery furniture were displayed. Maybe he could take a few pointers from the professionals on how to restore theirs. His eyes immediately narrowed in on a very pretty mobile hanging over one of the cribs. Smiling, he stopped his cart and reached over to it, batting at one of the pastel-coloured sheep, and then out of curiosity wound the mechanism up. As the first notes of the lullaby began to play his face lit up in wondrous delight.

"It's Brahms," he said out loud, his voice full of surprise, then cast a sheepish look around him. Wiegenlied, he mused as the melody continued, also known as the Cradle Song. He reached over for the tag and turned it over, his eyes widening at the price. Absently he felt his pockets for his glasses, slipped them on to make sure, but he was right the mobile did cost $143.99. How could a little plastic, some fluff and a small music box cost that much, he wondered? His expression changed to one of contemplation; maybe _he_ could make the baby a mobile and save a small fortune in the process. He smiled to himself with satisfaction. How hard could that be?

A white Teddy bear sat alone in the crib under the mobile, leaning against the side. Grissom's smile broadened as he picked it up, wondering how much one of them would set them back. There was something special about the toy, something that made Grissom want to give it a home. Price didn't matter anymore and he was filled with the intense yearning that this Teddy should be his first gift to his unborn child.

He took his glasses off and looked all around him, avid eyes searching for Sara, needing to check with her that it was okay to do that, but again she was nowhere to be seen. The Brahms lullaby finished its course and with one last, wistful stroke the plush Teddy was put back in the crib, sitting against the side exactly as he had found it. He grabbed his cart, forgetting all about checking out the crib, and swiftly moved on in search of Sara toward….the maternity clothes department.

He was pushing onwards when he stopped in front of the nursing bras. His brow lifted in interest. It wasn't the garments themselves that had grabbed his attention – they were most functional and quite unattractive – but more the idea behind them. He realised then that he and Sara had never broached the contentious topic of breastfeeding versus bottle feeding, as they hadn't so many other topics, and that he had no idea how she felt about either. He supposed he had rather old-fashioned views in the matter – why play with what Mother Nature took years to perfect? – But would Sara?

"Do you want me to model it for you?"

Grissom jumped. "No," he stammered, feeling himself go red. He threw a sideways glance at his wife and found her grinning wickedly. "I was just wondering…" he shrugged and met her eye. "It's nothing."

There was a pause. Sara's expression lost all trace of levity. "I'm going to try," she said, reading his mind. "See how it goes. See how the baby takes to it. I mean, there are so many advantages to breastfeeding and the weight will just drop off, right?"

The surge of love he felt at that moment left him speechless and on the brink of tears. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, then gave her a small smile. Sara watched him a little uncertainly for a moment, as though trying to fathom what was going through his mind, then lifted her hands in front of him.

"Which one do you like best?" she asked brightly.

He lowered his gaze from her face to the two baby sleepers she was holding up and stared at them, dumbstruck. One was white velour with a brown Teddy bear embossed on the front but his hand instinctively raised to the other one, feeling how soft the yellow velour was to the touch. It was so small, surely too small to fit a baby. Wasn't it?

Again, he wondered whether she knew the sex of the baby, but was keeping it to herself because they'd agreed they wouldn't find out. _That_ was one topic they'd discussed and had decided to keep a surprise. But could a mother-to-be instinctively know the sex of the child she was carrying? A boy would make him happy, but a girl…a baby girl…he felt his eyes well.

"So what do you say?" she probed excitedly.

His mouth opened, then shut again. He met her expectant gaze. "Let's take them both," he said, "but only if I'm allowed one of these."

Sara's face registered surprise. She put the sleepers in the cart before he turned it right around and eagerly pushed it back toward the nursery furniture. Stopping in front of the Teddy bear that had caught his eye earlier he turned toward Sara expectantly.

"But we already have a crib," she said with a puzzled expression.

He smiled. "The cuddly toy," he said, reaching down into the crib for it, "I would like to get our baby this one."

A look of astonishment filled Sara's features, and she stared at the Teddy bear he held in a shaky hand, stunned and awestruck. When she raised her eyes to him they were shining with tears. "It's perfect," she said in a small voice.

"Yeah?"

Her lip curling up in a smile, she slowly nodded her head at him, and he placed the Teddy in the cart next to the sleepers. "You ready to go yet?" she then asked, "Because I need to pee."

Grissom lifted his eyes to the rest of the store and pulled a disappointed face. He'd only just gotten started. "I'm sure they have a restroom somewhere here, Sara," he said, refocusing on her.

Her brow arched in surprise again, and she stared at him, her expression slowly shifting to one of understanding. "All right," she said in a resigned sigh, "I'll be right back," and disappeared down toward the rear of the store.

Grissom grabbed the cart and pushed it along a couple of aisles at a leisurely pace, stopping here and there to take a look at various items they would need but feeling no pressing urge to purchase any. He was rounding another corner when he caught sight of the book section ahead of him. With a purse of his mouth he carefully negotiated his way there. Stopping, he retrieved his glasses from his pocket and then slowly ran his eyes along the shelves, scanning the titles until he reached the section labelled, _Fatherhood_.

Fatherhood, he mused, staring in the middle distance with a wistful smile on his face. The smile died suddenly as it dawned on him just how ill-informed he was on the topic. When it came down to it, really, he knew nothing – nothing whatsoever – about being a dad. And not just about the practical aspects like holding, feeding, burping or changing a diaper, but also about how to aid the physical and mental development of an infant through all its stages.

Panic began to set, and with it a feeling of helplessness. How did one know how to be a father? Did one learn? Did he know any fathers who could teach him, show him the ropes, let him hold a baby? A crash course in parenting, that's what he needed, but from whom? And where? With a glance over his shoulder he turned back to his trusted friends – the books – and read through the titles with growing disarray: _The Expectant Father, The_ _Daddy Guide _and_ You're the Daddy._

He paused, his brow arching at a book called _My Boys Can Swim_, hesitated a long time on another titled, _The Gift of Fatherhood: How Men's Lives are Transformed by Their Children _before finally settling on, _The Father's Book: Being a Good Dad in the 21__st__ Century._ Because really when it came down to it, nothing was more important to him than being a good father, the best father he could be for his child. He pulled the book off the shelf and began flicking through it. It was riveting stuff. He was half-way through reading the first chapter when Sara returned.

"There was a line," she said in an exasperated sigh, "Can you believe it?"

Grissom absently raised his gaze to her in acknowledgement before turning to the next page.

"Why don't you get it?"

He closed the book, then slipped his glasses off. "You think I should?"

"Why not? You'd have plenty of time to read it while I'm at work."

His shoulder lifted and he glanced down at the book uncertainly. "I don't know," he said. "I find all this very daunting, and from what I read there aren't any answers."

Sara gave him a knowing smile. "We'll be fine," she said. "Whatever's not covered in books we'll just have to wing." She reached over, pulled the book out of his grasp and dropped it in the cart. "You're done?" she then asked.

"For now," he replied, barely stifling his smile.

"Then, let's go before I need to pee again."

They were moving away, headed toward the checkouts when Grissom slowed down in front of yet another display. This one advertised the benefits of cloth diapers as opposed to disposable ones. Thinking about cloth diaper? the sign brow lifted with interest. Were they?

"I don't think so," Sara said quickly, taking his arm and tugging him along, "Don't be getting any ideas. I'm all for saving the planet, but not at that cost." They reached the strollers aisle and Sara stopped dead in her tracks in front of a beautiful Hesba pram, her face lighting up with wonder. It was a modern take on the vintage seventies model and briefly Grissom wondered whether seeing the pram had tapped into some long-lost memory of her childhood.

He stopped beside her and read from the sign. "Condor Coupé," he scoffed, "Bet it costs as much as one too." He reached over for the price tag, turning it over. "Wow," he said, dropping the tag. He took her elbow, swiftly moving her along to the next one. "That's more in our price range, dear."

Sara gave a giggle and shook her head. "Come on," she said, "let's go."

They paid for their purchases and quickly made their way to the car. Grissom was about to turn the key in the ignition when he turned toward her. "Why don't you…call in sick tonight?" he asked.

Sara frowned. "But I'm not sick."

His shoulder lifted. "We could go out to dinner? Or maybe I could cook for you."

Sara turned on the seat fully and met his gaze dead on. Her brow was pinched. "Are you suggesting I play hooky?"

His grin was devilish. "A month is a long time, you said so yourself. So what do you say? You, me and a candlelight dinner?"

Sara's brow lifted. "Candlelight, huh?" she mused with a twist of her mouth. "I guess I _could_ ask Greg to swap nights off."

He gave her a wink then leaned across to peck her on the mouth. "I love you," he said, "so very much."

* * *

A/N: I told you it was FLUFFY! ;-) Happy New Year everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

Sara and Grissom were spending a lazy afternoon home on the couch before Sara had to go to work. Half-sitting, half-lying against the armrest with her legs propped up on Grissom's lap Sara had her nose in her pregnancy book while he gently massaged her swollen ankles and feet. The television was on, its sound turned down low, tuned to a games show he wasn't paying much attention to.

Peace and tranquillity were the order of the day. Their silence was easy and comfortable, every so often punctuated by Sara's reading aloud passages that were of particular interest to her about the latter stages of pregnancy and which put fuel to his silent musings and growing worries about the forthcoming birth. As his eyes stared blindly at the flicking images on the screen he continued his soothing kneading and let his mind wander.

Sara had another week of shifts left before maternity leave and he couldn't wait to have her home full time so he could keep an eye on her and make sure she wasn't overdoing it. Her blood pressure was a little high and lately she'd been coming home from CSI dead on her feet, falling asleep at the drop of a hat. His pleas for her to take some time off and slow down were always met with a raised brow and a knowing smile.

"Quit fretting," she would invariably say but who would blame him?

The nursery was ready, the crib he'd painstakingly sanded down to bare wood, primed and then painted white – two coats – standing on a rug dead centre of the room. He'd fixed the lock on the mechanism and had watched entranced the cradle rock, the cuddly toy they'd purchased sitting proudly in the middle. All that was missing was their baby inside it. A matching chest of drawers stood against the wall next to a changing table. That first trip to USA Baby four weeks ago had been an eye-opening experience for both of them, and since then there had been many a return trip, some with and some _sans_ Sara.

The baby wasn't born yet and already it was an intrinsic part of their life, a new sun around which their small world revolved. It was all they thought about, talked about, read about. They had bought the baby a plastic bathtub, bedding, more clothes – all in varying shades of gender-neutral colours – and books, and only now did he feel he was getting to grips with it all. They had still to buy a car seat and a pram. A smile formed on his face. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He glanced at the time on the DVD player and pursed his face thoughtfully. It was getting rather late in the day, and he should think about making a start on dinner.

Out of the blue, Sara's toes straightened out in his hand and he felt the muscles in her feet tense, then relax, and then tense again. Frowning he looked down at his lap and watch the tendons work. Her toenails had grown quite a bit since she'd last painted them, and idly he wondered how long it would be until she was able to do that again.

"Sara, what are you doing?" he asked with growing puzzlement.

"Kegel exercises," she replied absently, "Very good for maintaining the strength of my vaginal muscles."

Grissom turned a bewildered expression toward his wife who, straight-faced, glanced up at him over the top of her book before continuing with her reading and her pelvic-floor exercises. Watching her, he felt a surge of love and wonder; that she was his wife and that their baby, due in just a few weeks, would soon be born. What had he done to deserve such love, happiness and contentment in his life?

She looked up again when smiling he tucked the blanket up around her midriff. "You know," she said, "I've been wondering what it must be like in there." She put one hand on her stomach before easing down the blanket and lifting her top, revealing a belly as hard as a watermelon. "Before we're born, I mean."

His hand immediately crept to her stomach, feather light fingers delicately brushing against the warm skin. All was calm in there, the baby most probably asleep. "Well," he said, considering her words, "I suppose it must be like floating under water and hearing distorted speech and sounds."

Sara gave a thoughtful nod and returned to her reading while he pulled down her top. Absorbed, she licked her index finger and turned another page. Her lips were slightly parted as she read and again he found himself unable to take his eyes off her.

"Remind me to buy some maxi menstrual pads and disposable briefs to take to the hospital," she said, "For after the birth."

Grissom's feeling of bewilderment increased ten-folds. He opened his mouth, then shut it, at a loss how to respond.

With an amused smile Sara pretended to return to her reading. "Feeling a little squeamish?" she teased, looking up. Something in his expression alarmed her, for shuffling up into a more seated position, she pulled her feet off his lap and looked at him with concern. "You know it's going to get messy, right? I mean, the loss of bodily functions, however embarrassing, won't be the worst of it."

He puckered his lips at her. "You know I don't mind all that. It's just…"

"Gil?" she called softly when his words drifted off in a sigh, "Talk to me."

His shoulder lifted and he reached over to the coffee table for the remote control. Keeping his eyes averted he clicked the television off. "Maybe an elective C-section is the way forward," he said finally, turning toward her. "The risks of something going wrong during labour increase with age and—"

Her expression was solemn, her gaze clouded with concern. "I thought we talked about this. I thought we'd agreed on a natural birth."

"I'm just…not looking forward to seeing you in pain or in distress, that's all."

There was a pause where Sara remained silent. "Gil," she said after a moment, "I'm healthy. The baby's healthy, facing the right way. He – or _she_ – is of average size and weight, neither too big nor too small. I've been doing everything Dr Baldwin said I should do to get my body ready for the day. Taking all the supplements and vitamins. There's no reason to think the birth won't be as textbook as the pregnancy's been so far. Childbirth is painful, but I'm prepared." She held his gaze and smiled. "Besides us women have a much higher pain threshold than you men do."

His lips pulled in a small grudging smile. "And if you don't there's always the drugs, right?"

Sara's smile broadened, and she acknowledged his words with a nod. And then without skipping a beat, "Did you know Jacob was last year's most popular boys' name?"

How could she flit from one subject to another so swiftly? "Jacob?" he repeated without much enthusiasm.

She nodded, then read from her pregnancy guide. "And then Mason, William, Jayden, and Noah."

"I don't like any of them," he said a little grumpily, and then because he was interested, "What about the most popular girl's name?"

"Sophia."

_Sophia_, he mused. He didn't like that name either; not for his child anyway. Just as he didn't any of the names Sara had suggested so far. Sara resumed her silent reading and gently pulling her legs back out onto his lap he resumed his massaging. They'd discussed names before, many times, they'd even compiled a list but they hadn't been able to agree on any one in particular.

He stopped in his ministrations and turned toward her. "Sara?" he called musingly.

Her answer was an absent, muffled sound. Her eyes remained fixed on her reading.

"What do you think of Ava for a girl?"

Sara's eyes flicked up off the page before she lowered her book and looked up to him with surprise.

He stared at her expectantly and when she said nothing lifted his shoulder, suddenly unsure. "I mean…I like Ava. So, what do you think?"

He let his question hang with another tentative shrug of his shoulders. Ava, he mused, a soft smile forming on his lips. Oh, how he loved the way the name rolled off his tongue. Ava Grissom. She would be beautiful and smart, he decided, just like her mother and she needed a name accordingly.

"You don't like it," he said when Sara remained speechless. "That's okay. Just an idea. We'll find something we both agree on, I'm sure."

Sara sat herself up, lifting her hand to him, cutting his words short. "No. I―I like it," she said, and smiled, then tried out the name for herself. "Ava." She closed the book and lowered her hand to her stomach, giving it a gentle stroke. "Ava." Her smile grew and she swung her legs off his lap onto the floor, shuffling over next to him. "What changed your mind?"

"About what?"

"Well, until now you were adamant we were expecting a boy."

That was true. A boy would keep the family name going, he'd thought, a fact his mother had been quick to support. "And you a girl," he replied. "And I read in_ my_ book that mothers generally know best. All to do with maternal instinct."

Sara's expression became thoughtful and she sighed. "I hope you're right, because sometimes I wonder if we've taken on too much."

He burst out laughing. "And you're telling me this now?" When her gaze averted he sobered up and placed his fingers under her chin, coaxing it round toward him. He gave her a smile. "What happened to winging it, huh?" Sara's returning smile was small and unconvinced and he sighed. His tone became earnest. "You're going to be a great mom, Sara, I know you are. So quit worrying all right? It's not good for your blood pressure."

He picked up her book and idly flicked through it, then carelessly tossed it onto the coffee table. "There is a point where one can be too prepared and know too much. And I think…that you've reached that point." He placed his hand on her knee and gave it a gentle pat. "You're going to be a great mom, Sara," he reiterated firmly, and winked when finally he noticed the hint of a smile on her lips. He searched her gaze for a few seconds more and then content to see that her unfounded, but no less understandable, fears were appeased pushed up to his feet. "I'm going to go and make a start on dinner."

"I'll come give you a hand." She made to stand but he put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her down.

"You stay put," he said, "rest up before shift. Take a nap or something, while you still can." She was about to argue when he added, "I mean it, Sara, I don't want you anywhere near my kitchen."

The sparkle in her eyes when she laughed made him pause. His gaze flickered from her face to her stomach and then back up again, and he stared at her with all the love and tenderness he possessed. If he could bottle this moment and keep it for ever, he would. He felt his throat constrict with emotion, and when her hand lifted to his face in understanding he shook his head, trying to rid himself of his melancholy, and smiled at her.

"Rest," he bid quietly, and pecked her on the lips to stop her from arguing.

Once in the kitchen, he turned the oven on to warm up the pizza he'd made earlier. As he looked through the cupboards gathering ingredients to make a salad he began to hear the very distinctive sound of heavy breathing and panting coming from up the stairs. He smiled to himself, glancing over his shoulder in that direction, but couldn't see her. It was far too regular and measured for him to worry and think it was early labour or Braxton-Hicks. She was practising her Lamaze breathing as they'd been shown in the weekly prenatal classes they attended.

They met a mixed bunch at those classes, and when they'd gone to the first session a few weeks previously he'd fully expected for them to be the older couple there. He was by far the older man but Sara wasn't the older woman, not by a few years. That honour went to a forty-five-year-old Hispanic woman who was expecting her fourth child. He'd feared a few snide remarks maybe, blatant stares and murmured talk in regards to how old he was, but he needed have worried. If anything, his advancing years worked to his advantage, giving him a calmness, serenity and confidence that the younger folk lacked. Or so he liked to believe.

"Do we have any sardines?" Sara called down to him out of the blue.

Sardines, he mused, his brow rising, that was a new one. "I'll check," he called back, and put down his paring knife to check the cupboards. "You're in luck," he then said, pulling out a dusty can of Calmex sardines in tomato sauce and checking the best by date.

He was opening the can and making a meal out of it – literally and figuratively – when the door bell rang. He looked down at his tomato sauce covered fingers. "Sara, can you get it?" he called.

"Oh, can't you?" she said, "I'm doing my breathing exercises."

The doorbell chimed again, impatiently this time. Grissom frowned, then paused and turned toward the door. His face lit up suddenly as he realised his surprise had finally arrived. "I'm a little busy here," he insisted, trying to keep the smile of anticipation out of his voice.

"All right," Sara muttered grudgingly causing his smile to broaden. He glanced over to her at the top of the stairs as she pulled herself up from the couch with some difficulty and made her way over to the door. "All right, all right," she grumbled, "I'm coming as quick as I can."

Keeping an eye on the front door, Grissom moved over to the sink to wash his hands. Sara looked through the peephole and he could well imagine her frown of puzzlement on recognising the uniformed deliveryman behind the door. Slowly, she unbolted the door and opened it a crack.

"Delivery…Grissom," he heard, "…2205 Beach Front Drive?"

Grissom craned his neck to see the expression on Sara's face but she had her back well and truly to him.

"It's a little late in the day for a delivery, isn't it?" he heard her say, and then, opening the door wider, "Gil? It's a delivery. We're not expecting anything, are we?"

Grissom picked up a dish cloth and wiped his hand, the smile of anticipation growing on his face as he padded up the stairs to the door. "Well, I'm expecting a couple more books," he said lightly.

"I don't think that's it," she said, and jerked her head to the street.

Grissom looked at the white truck parked at the curb with its rear doors thrown open and grinned.

"Gil?"

The delivery guy stepped out of the back of the truck onto the hydraulic tail lift pulling a cart, three large white cardboard boxes piled high on it. The tail lift was lowered and the boxes wheeled to their door. The picture and wide lettering on the side of the bigger box was a dead giveaway as to its content. If he could have had it gift-wrapped, he would have done, but their local store was out of stock and he'd had to order it online. He turned his attention to Sara and watched her frown slowly fade until it morphed into the biggest, most incredulous grin.

"Where do you want me to leave the boxes?" the delivery guy asked.

"Just by the door is fine," Grissom replied, "Thank you." Clearly lost for words, Sara turned a still most flummoxed, wide-eyed expression toward him. "You any good with flat-pack?" he asked with a lift of his shoulder.

After he'd unloaded the boxes the delivery guy held out his plastic pen and electronic pad to Sara. When she made no move toward them Grissom quickly signed his name, and the guy went on his way.

"I don't know what to say," Sara gasped.

His smile was tentative. "Say that you like it."

She flicked her eyes back to him and laughed. Irrepressible joy and giddiness shone on her face. "Oh, Gil, how can you doubt this? I _love_ it!" She closed the distance over to him and looped her hands behind his neck. "And I love you." His smile widening he leaned in for a kiss. "Thank you," she said when they broke apart. "From both of us, thank you."

Grissom was grinning with delight that his gift had had the desired effect. "So, shall we take a peek, or eat first?"

Sara turned away from him toward the boxes. Her expression became contemplative, almost melancholy. "Did you know my mother had a pram just like this? I mean…I don't remember it, but there was this picture of me in it. It was old and tatty―"

He draped his arm over her shoulders. "Well, this one is brand new."

She paused. The edges of her mouth curled up in a smile and she glanced over at him. "I still can't believe you did this." The last word faded in a wince. Her face pinched, her hand moved to her stomach, rubbing heavily over its right side.

"Sara, you okay?"

Her expression softened. "Just the baby telling me she's awake."

Grissom stared at her with concern, then affection, and smiled. "You know that…if this baby's a boy, we've scarred him for life, right?"

Sara's face lit up. "Oh, it's a girl," she intoned firmly.


	5. Chapter 5

Grissom was crossing their local park, headed home from walking Hank, when ahead in the distance he spotted the children play area. He checked his watch and thinking he'd better keep himself and Hank out of harm's way a little longer followed the concrete path there. Soon, the raucous sound of children hard at play drifted up to him, becoming louder the closer he got. His face lit up as he surveyed the scene.

One day soon, he thought, as well as Hank trotting alongside him he would be pushing his little one in the stroller to this very playground. One day soon, he would be pushing her on the swing, catching her as she came flying down the slide or helping her find deep-buried treasures in the sand pit. God, he couldn't wait.

A soft smile playing round the edges of his mouth Grissom sat down on a nearby bench while Hank made himself comfortable at his feet, and watched a couple of toddlers chase each other under the attentive eye of their chatting mothers. Or nannies, he mused, sadly noticing that they were no dads to be seen anywhere. Young or otherwise.

He'd soon put paid to that, intending as he did to be an integral part of his child's life, and taking her to the park was par for the course. Okay, maybe soon was a tad optimistic at the snail pace things were advancing at the moment but he didn't want his child growing up as lonely and socially awkward, some might say badly adjusted, as he had. His child would know how to make friends and interact with them so that when the time came and she met the man of her life she knew what to do. Unlike him.

Still, he was getting a little ahead of himself there. Let the baby be born first, he reminded himself, safe and healthy. His smile faded as he thought of the birth. The baby was late. Sara's elation at being pregnant and having a baby growing inside her had all but gone now, replaced by an overpowering urge to just have the baby out, to carry it in her arms rather than in her belly.

The baby quite content in its cocoon had other ideas though, much to Sara's growing frustration. The due date had come and gone with nothing happening except for a few Braxton-Hicks contractions which he'd painstakingly timed but that had come to zilch. He wasn't surprised really since only four to five per cent of babies were born on their due date anyway, but try telling her that.

Sara wasn't so good at waiting, had never been good at it, and now was no exception. In fact, the more the days passed with no signs of giving birth, the crankier she grew. And that was putting it mildly. The baby was late, and she made it sound like it was his fault. What could he do about it?

And so he'd left her home with her feet up and her nose once again in her pregnancy guide, feeling most fed-up. He'd made himself scarce under the disguise of taking Hank for yet another walk when in truth he'd needed a time out. All his pacing around the house and fussing over her was driving her crazy. He gave a quiet scoff. Well, that made two of them.

Giving a long, languid yawn, Hank settled himself for a long stay and Grissom's attention turned to him. His smile broadened. "You're in no hurry to go home either, are you?" he asked, his head shaking in amusement.

Change was in the air all around and Hank had felt it, finding himself in Sara's feet just as much as he had. He leaned down and unclasped the leash before giving the dog an affectionate pat.

"While we're here and it's just the two of us," he then said, "I thought we could have a little chat."

The boxer looked up and round at his master with mild interest while Grissom absently stroked him behind the ears.

"I mean…I don't know if you quite realise, or if Sara already told you, but soon there's going to be a baby in the house. It's not just going to be the three of us anymore, but four, and that's going to change everything. I mean, a baby especially at first needs a lot of care and attention, a lot of time and…while we won't deliberately neglect you it might happen that sometimes we will put you second, or even third, and we won't be as available as what we normally are. You know…for walks and attention and the likes."

Grissom paused and sighed. Hank's ears twitched up. His tail was wagging. "It won't be for ever. Just until things calm down a little and the baby gets bigger. Talking of which," he went on in a low voice, "there's going to have to be some new rules around the house. I mean, you already know you're not allowed in the nursery, right?"

Hank gave another yawn and then stood up, shaking himself, and Grissom took that as a sign that the dog had had enough with the pep talk.

He gave a quiet laugh. "You're ready to head back, huh, and face the music?" he said, pushing to his feet. "Me too." He clipped the leash back onto the dog's collar and they walked away at a leisurely pace toward home. He checked his phone, just in case, but there were no missed calls or messages. And he had kept to Sara's strict no-more-than-fifteen-minute-brisk-walk-away-from-the-house remit. So, he was fine.

When he finally put the key in the lock, pushing the front door open and letting himself and Hank in, he could hear soft music playing from the kitchen. Hank made a beeline down the stairs to the kitchen and his water bowl, warmly greeting Sara on the way.

Something was cooking on the stove. Chilli, he thought as he caught a whiff. The fridge door was open and Sara was rummaging inside. She backed out, holding one of the glass shelves in rubber-gloved hands and putting it in the sink ready to be washed. The food she'd taken out from the fridge stood on the worktop nearby. With a resigned sigh and shake of the head he put the keys and leash on the table by the door and slipped his shoes off.

"How was your nap?" he asked, rather pointedly, as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek while she held the fridge shelf under the tap and ran a soapy cloth over it.

Sara pursed her mouth at him in a knowing smile. "Fine," she replied, and then, "I thought I'd do this while I still had the time."

He made a dubious sound and lifted the lid on the simmering pan. The smell that filled his nostrils made his stomach growl with hunger. Instinctively he turned down the heat to its lowest setting and picked up the wooden spoon lying at the side of the cooker to give it a stir. "Smells good," he said, and scooped a little chilli mixture which he brought to his mouth before pulling a face and blowing out a breath at how spicy it was.

"Too much?" she asked.

He threw her a sideways look. Was this another trick question? Or did it warrant an honest reply? "A little," he said, edging on the side of caution, "But with a little sour cream, it'll be fine."

Seemingly satisfied with his reply, Sara gave him a nod. "I couldn't just lay there and wait, you know? I mean, I got to do something to help this baby out. As the evening primrose oil clearly isn't doing the trick I've decided to take matters into my own hands."

"How do you mean?" he asked with puzzlement as he lowered the lid over the food.

Shrugging she picked up a dish cloth and began to dry the shelf. "I read that eating spicy food can jump start labour."

Grissom cocked a brow in surprise, then burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

She pulled a face at him, and he sobered up. "Apparently, a jolt to the gut could bring on contractions," she said in all seriousness.

He picked an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite of it. Was inducing labour in that manner wise? Wouldn't it be better to wait until the baby was ready to come out by itself? None of the research done on the subject was conclusive and there was no evidence that eating certain types of food had the power to bring on labour. Heartburn, yes, but labour?

Needless to say, he kept his protestations to himself, and took the safer option of merely pursing his mouth contemplatively in reply. Why not, if it made her feel better. Besides, he was hungry, and the chilli did smell divine.

"What about going to the pictures afterwards?" he tried, opting for a change of tack.

"The pictures?" Sara put the shelf back in the fridge and began transferring the food she'd taken out back in.

"I thought watching a movie might take your mind off the wait. They're showing _The Life of Pi_ at seven."

Sara pulled another face. Her hands moved to her lower back and she leaned back on them, stretching. "I was kind of looking forward to a hot bath actually."

Knowing how particularly painful Sara's back was at the moment Grissom simply nodded his head in agreement. "Okay," he said in a smile. "Maybe I can massage your back too, if it helps."

Sara gave him an absent nod while she closed the fridge door, then turning back to the sink glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. Alarms bells should have been ringing, but they weren't.

"I also read that...hot food and a hot bath should be followed by hot sex," she went on quietly, easing another look in his direction. Grissom's eyes widened and he stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment. "The three combined have a greater chance of inducing labour." Sara fully turned toward him and watched him expectantly. There was no signs that she was jesting, on the contrary her expression was solemn and sincere.

"Oh, no, no, no," he said waving his hand in front of him for emphasis. "I won't do it. We talked about this. Sara, you're forty weeks pregnant. I'm not comfortable―"

"Semen," she said, and hearing that word coming out of her mouth at that particular moment and in this particular setting cut his retort short, "or rather the prostaglandin in it, can help efface the cervix." Her mouth closed as her shoulder lifted, and she gave a small laugh. "I'm desperate, Gil. I've had enough. I want―I _need_ for this baby to be out. Now."

Grissom's mouth opened, then shut.

"It's the only way," she insisted her expression softening with a half-smile. "Besides, it could be fun." The brief look of mischief in her eyes faded into earnestness. "The last bit of fun we have for quite a while. Months, in fact, or even years, my book says."

Grissom's lips pinched to hide his smile. Was she operating some kind of twisted blackmail on him? It wasn't going to work. He'd gone years without sex in the past without missing it. Admittedly, that was before he'd met her and tasted her delicious fruit, but he knew for a fact that she'd miss making love before he did. Even after the baby had come. He had absolutely no qualms about that. Grissom opened his mouth again but Sara lifted her hand, once again cutting his reply short.

"Okay. We wouldn't have to go all the way. What about if you get me to orgasm?"

He was finding it harder and harder to suppress his smile. God, she must be desperate, and he felt for her, truly he did. "Sara!" he exclaimed with mock affront.

She sighed. "I'm desperate, Gil," she reiterated, looking pitifully at him, "I'd rather you than me do it. Besides, I don't want to get to the point when I need to be medically induced."

"It won't get to that," he said reassuringly. "I just think the baby'll come out when it's good and ready."

"Just like you, huh?"

All this was all rather endearing, really. Grissom tried to stifle his smile, but failed to. When her gaze became beseeching he burst out laughing. "Is there any scientific evidence to support that theory?" he asked.

His question gave her pause. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that you would agree to do it on that condition?"

"I'm a man of science. I believe in empirical truths." He pretended to give her question some thought, but by now the answer was evident to both of them. "So, is there?" he asked again.

"As a matter of fact, there is," she said, laughing. "When a woman orgasms oxytocin is released in her body and that hormone is known to trigger contractions." She was grinning now. "So, what do you say?"

He closed the distance to her and pulled her to him, rubber gloves and all. "I say that we skip the entrée and main course and go straight to dessert."

Sara gave a soft scoff. "No cutting corners," she said, gently pushing out of his embrace. "We can't take chances. We need this to work. I can't take another day being pregna―"

And when she overtalked like that, some called it raving, others ranting, there was only one way to shut her up. He pulled her to him again and hands lifting to her face leaned in for a kiss. Her hands came up, linking at the back of his head, and she returned the kiss with fervour.

Sara would have her way. She always did. How else had they gotten themselves in this predicament in the first place. Not that he regretted it. As usual she'd known just exactly how to take their relationship forward to the next stage.

* * *

"Gil?"

The call of his name failed to rouse him from his slumber. He stirred a little, content to bury his face deeper into the pillow and return to his happy dream.

"Gil?"

This time the call was more frantic, coupled with a hard shove and shake of the shoulders. Grissom gave a low moan of displeasure and turned away from the voice.

"Gil! Wake up. It's time. It's worked. The baby's coming."

The words at last began to filter through. Grissom lifted his head off the pillow and wiped at his eyes. Then he turned toward Sara, standing at the end of the bed in an oversized T-shirt, pacing and panting. "The baby's coming?" he repeated with disbelief, sitting up bolt upright. "Right now? You're sure it's not another false alarm?"

His comment earned him a very, very dark glare, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the baby was well and truly on its way. Rubbing hard at the side of her stomach and holding her lower back she padded her way over to him. She smiled at him then, but her smile stiffened, fading into a wince and she paused to ride a fresh wave of pain.

He was out of bed in a flash, making what he hoped were the appropriate noises while taking her hand and supporting her. When the pain subsided Sara looked up to him and gave him an incredulous smile. "She's coming," she said in a gasp of disbelief.

"She is."

"We're going to be parents."

He pinched his lips to curb the rising emotion within him and nodded his head softly at her. "We are, honey. We are."

Smiling, he brought his hands up to cup her face and looked deep into her eyes. Sara's hand lifted to his face, stroking at his stubbled cheek. She looked fearful suddenly, scared and apprehensive, and he knew what was going through her mind; she was thinking of all the potential risks of giving birth, to her and the baby.

Was this where he told her that his book claimed that one could never be truly prepared for what awaited them during labour and childbirth?

"It's going to be okay," he said confidently. "We're prepared. We've a birth plan. We've worked through every scenario. I'm going to call the hospital to tell them we're coming, and then we'll go." She gave him a shaky nod and he paused. "Honey, we can do this," he then said, holding her gaze meaningfully. "We're doing it."

* * *

A/N: I was going to have a more angsty ending to this chapter, but hey, it's been snowing hard here in Norwich and the back garden looks beautiful. More importantly all the schools are closed, so we're all off! I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was in a fluffy, mushy, snow-flaky kind of mood when I wrote this.

Anyway, I know fewer and fewer people are reading GSR stories these days but those of you who still are, please leave a review. Let me know you're out there. Thanks for reading. Sylvie.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews you left for the last chapter, especially the many 'guest' ones I couldn't reply to and thank individually. Keep them coming please; they are a great source of encouragement, especially as all this fluff isn't my preferred genre. Keeping Grissom and Sara in character in this story is proving to be a challenge, and I hope I'm not too far off the mark, if ever they were in this situation, of course.

I mention Nitrous Oxide as pain relief at some point in this chapter (which use, I found out, isn't wide-spread at all in the US). Nitrous Oxide is better known as 'gas and air' in the UK and maybe in other parts of the world where it is very, very commonplace. I remember it well…

Anyway, there will be one more chapter after this one. It's a long one; I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Okay, so the hospital's expecting us," Grissom said, putting the phone down.

After his initial shock at being so abruptly woken he was feeling quite calm and in control of the situation. The midwife at the other end of the line had played down his urgency, maintaining that since Sara's waters hadn't yet broken and her contractions were still relatively spaced out there was no immediate rush for them to come in, but come they must anyway. How could labour have started without him waking up, he wondered? How could he not have heard Sara moving about the room when she'd been having contractions for the last two hours?

Sara glanced up at him then nodded her head, and he gave her a smile. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, trying but failing to slip her foot into some pants. Her breathing was somewhat laboured, her movements clumsy and badly coordinated. Smiling, he kneeled down in front of her, slowly helping her push one leg into her maternity pants and then the other.

"God, this is embarrassing," she said in an awkward giggle.

He paused and looked up. "Why is it?" he asked, surprised. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's only me, Sara. I want to share in this, in all of it, not just the good things."

Staring at him, she gave him a small nod. "I'll remind you you said that when the baby wakes every two hours, or when it has reflux."

"I can't wait," he said with a wink, and it was true. He truly couldn't wait. He wouldn't be one of these dads that never changed a diaper, never got peed and pooped or vomited on. Lifting his hand to her face he cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over it. Sara's eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch, only to screw up her face as she rode a new wave of pain.

"Just remember to breathe through it," he offered reassuringly and confidently as he rubbed up and down her legs.

Sara's eyes snapped open, as dark and narrowed as he'd ever seen them. "I think I know what to do," she said through gritted teeth. And then in a wince as she glanced at the clock on the bedside table she attempted to push herself up to her feet, "Help me up, will you? We need to get going."

Grissom didn't need to be told twice. He kept his hand in the crook of her elbow while she pulled her clothes up to her waist and then slipped her feet into her well-worn Birkenstocks – easy to slip on without having to bend down_ and_ wide enough to accommodate her swollen feet and ankles.

"How do I look?" she asked, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth.

Grissom was amazed at the sudden change. He knew all about mood swings by now, but this rapidly? "Like you're about to give birth," he replied a little cagily.

Her smile widened pleasurably. "Good job I am, then," she said, and then, "Come on, let's go before the next contraction."

Grissom watched her closely for a moment before nodding his head. Hurriedly, he got dressed, pulling on an old navy sweater and some jeans while Sara fetched her hospital bag which she'd painstakingly packed almost four weeks previously from the closet. When she opened the bedroom door Hank was waiting, yelping and eager, and Grissom cursed at the inevitable delay. They were reaching the kitchen when Sara stopped abruptly, her face pinching as she doubled over with pain and panted her way through another contraction.

Supporting her as best he could and feeling totally powerless to help, he watched her with concern. "It's fifteen minutes since the last one," he said, needlessly.

After less than a minute, the pain subsided and Sara straightened up, taking a few shaky breaths at first and then more sedate ones.

"How's the pain?" he asked quietly, his expression pained and concerned, "On a scale of one to ten."

Sara blew out a long breath. "Five," she said in a hard swallow and met his eye. "It's going to get worse. Okay," she then said, nodding, "this one's passed. I'm ready to go." He picked up the hospital bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and helped her slowly negotiate her way up the stairs, their progress hampered by Hank, anxiously circling around in front of them.

"We need to drop Hank at the sitter on the way," he said, his tone showing a little annoyance.

"We can't," Sara replied between pants. "She's gone away for the week. Greg said he'll look after him."

"Okay. I'll call Greg from the hospital." He checked his watch. "It's only a few hours until the end of shift."

They reached the top of the stairs and Sara nodded. "Shit," she said, stopping as he unbolted the front door.

Grissom looked at the time – again – worried that at the rate the contractions were coming they would never made it to the hospital across town and Sara would give birth at home, or worse in the car. "You okay?" he asked. "Another contraction?"

Sara shook her head and turned around on the spot. "I need to pee," she said.

His expression was pained. "Now?"

She shot him a dark look. "Yes, now," she said between gritted teeth.

And as Grissom fought to keep his frustration in check they slowly retraced their steps down the stairs, past the kitchen all the way to the bathroom. Grissom stopped at the threshold, suddenly hesitant. "I'm going to wait here," he said, letting go of her. He made sure to keep the door ajar just in case she needed his help, and waited on tenterhooks for her to be done. This was going to be a long day.

They made it to the car just as Sara was having another contraction. Again, they waited a couple of minutes, Sara panting and groaning her way through the contraction as she braced herself, leaning forward against the hood of the car. They were getting worse, he realised, lasting longer and harder for her to breathe through and ride out.

All the while he could only cast desperate glances up and down the street and to the still-sleeping houses nearby. All seemed deserted at this early hour, the sun barely rising, but in his helplessness to be of any comfort to her he couldn't help wondering if someone had heard them and was watching with keen interest from behind their shuttered blinds.

Getting her strapped up in the car took some doing, but he got there. As he looked over his shoulder, slowly backing the car out of the drive, he caught a glimpse of the car seat all ready and waiting on the back seat. He smiled to himself, recalling the hard-fought battle he'd had learning to fit it. The car was reaching the edge of the curb onto the roadway when, out of the blue, the loud, continuous beeping of a horn coming from his left startled him and Sara in equal measure.

He stamped hard on the brake pedal causing the car to jerk to an abrupt halt and them to pitch forward. Immediately, he reached out his right arm in front of Sara, holding her back to minimise the motion, and he was glad he'd insisted she wore her seatbelt despite the discomfort. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the van driver shout abuse at him as he swerved past, and he shook his head in disbelief at what had almost happened. His heart rate was through the roof.

"Just take it easy, Gil," Sara said, both hands on her bump as though she was holding it in place.

"I am so sorry," he said, bringing his hand to his face and rubbing anxiously. "Sara, I don't know what happened. I got distracted. I—"

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "I'm okay. The baby's okay. But…just let's take our time, alright? Get there in one piece."

Meeting her soft gaze Grissom nodded his head, then still in shock turned to stare in front of him and took a moment to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. Unexpectedly, Sara's soft giggle filled the silence of the cab.

"I think my waters just broke," she said in an astounded whisper. He turned incredulous eyes toward her, but she was looking down at herself. "Either that, or I just peed myself again." Looking up and over she smiled at him. "I think they tell us to plan the birth so we can keep busy and pretend we're in control. But we're not, are we?" She stroked her hands over her stomach. "The baby is. We can only follow her lead and make it easier for her."

His brow rose in surprise. She'd changed her tune, he thought to himself. What happened to, "I'm desperate, Gil. I've had enough. I want―I _need_ for this baby to be out. Now."

He softly nodded his head at her, then put the car in gear and this time very carefully finished backing out onto the road. Grissom drove slowly, keeping just below the speed limit and to the commute they'd worked out, carefully stopping at every junction, every stop light despite the light traffic, much to Sara's growing frustration.

When the next contraction came Sara made a grunting sound he'd never heard her make before and never wanted to hear again. Grissom's gaze flicked over to her, and he could only watch as she restlessly writhed on the seat, contorting with pain, in turn pushing up off the seat as though making to stand or leaning heavily against it, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position.

"Any reason we're moving at a snail's pace?" she snapped, and began to pant, loudly and with her mouth opened, just like they'd been shown during the prenatal sessions. It wasn't pretty. "Step on it goddamnit, I think she's coming!"

His eyes widened in fright at the thought and he put his foot down, speeding through intersections, even running an amber light in his haste to get there. His jaw was set, his gaze intent on the road, on getting them to the hospital as quickly as possible. There, he followed the signs round the building to Maternity as they'd done on their practice run and parked the car in the first available spot.

"Do you want me to get you a wheelchair?" he asked as he helped her out of the car.

The look she threw him as she waddled off toward the main entrance spoke louder than any curse she could have hurled at him. Grissom hurriedly grabbed the bag from the trunk, locked the car and set off at a trot after her. He caught up with her at the elevators. She was bracing herself against the wall, panting as she waited for the elevator doors to open.

When they reached the maternity floor, after yet another contraction – they were getting closer and lasting longer, he'd stupidly pointed out – a midwife called Sam and wearing peach-coloured scrubs came to meet them, all smiles and ease, and showed them to a delivery room. Sara perched herself on the edge of the bed while the midwife looked through Sara's notes, nodding to herself. After brief introductions she explained that Dr Rodriguez was busy next door and that if they had no objections she would start doing the necessary checks. They had none.

After helping Sara fully up onto the bed she lifted her top and hooked her up to an electronic foetal monitor. Worried that his sharp breaking earlier could have distressed the baby or accelerated labour Grissom watched closely the nurse's practised gestures. When she'd finished strapping two thick stretchy bands around Sara's tummy she turned a knob on the monitor and the galloping sound of their baby's heartbeat filled the expectant silence.

"Wow," Grissom said, relief flooding him, "should it be this quick?"

"Absolutely," the midwife replied, adjusting the sound down on the monitor. "It's a strong, healthy heartbeat."

Grissom smiled and squeezed his wife's hand. She looked over at him, and they shared a long look and smile.

"What's the second stretchy band for?" he then asked.

"It's to track down contractions," the midwife replied easily. She turned toward Sara. "I need to carry out an examination to see what the cervix is doing. Are you happy with me doing that?"

Sara glanced at Grissom before nodding her head at the midwife who swiftly pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Afterwards, she helped Sara remove her pants and panties before laying her down on the bed, all under Grissom's watchful eye.

"You're going to feel a little discomfort, but it's perfectly safe for the baby," she said reassuringly, giving Sara a wide smile when the latter nodded her understanding. "Take a big breath. Nice and relaxed. Well done." She pulled her hand out and snapped the latex gloves off. "That's over and done with."

"So?" Sara asked keenly.

"Everything's looking good so far," she replied, tossing the gloves in a trash can. "Progressing as it should." Pulling a pen out of her pocket she made more notes on the chart. "But you're still in the early stages of labour, Sara. I'm afraid it's going to be a while yet. You're five centimetres dilated."

Sara's shoulders sagged and smiling at her Grissom stroked his hand up and down her arm. "Are you sure?" he asked, voicing Sara's disappointment.

The nurse's smile was knowing. "I'm sure," she replied firmly before excusing herself and leaving them to it.

Grissom reached for Sara's hospital bag and took out a small bottle of isotonic. "You need to drink," he told her, "Keep your strength and sugar levels up."

Sara gave him a look, then shook her head briskly, and so he took a long sip of the orange drink himself, needing to keep _his _strength and sugar levels up. Soon after, Dr Rodriguez made an appearance, studied Sara's notes, echoed the midwife's words and left them to it. With nothing to do but wait, Grissom pulled the corner chair nearer the bed and made himself comfortable.

He offered her drinks, snacks and massages. He tried reading to her, talking to her, anything that might take her mind off the pain even for a brief instant and garner him a small smile. It didn't work. An old crossword was finished, a new one started. Music was played, the television switched on and off, the foetal monitor's intricacies studied at length, played with and even tried upon oneself.

Sara's weariness was growing, her patience and strength waning with every second, and there was nothing he could do to facilitate her ordeal. Contractions came and went, getting steadily stronger, longer and closer together. Offers of painkillers were bravely rejected, though, and Sara alternated between restlessly lying on the bed, pacing around the bed or sitting and bouncing lightly on a giant space hopper. Except it didn't have little horns to hold on to.

Time passed, hours in fact, punctuated by regular visits from various medical staff, the rhythmic sound of Sara's slowly progressing labour and the random screaming of women in rooms nearby as they pushed their baby out. Had they even attempted to soundproof the place?

At 8.15 am, and that time would forever be imprinted in his mind, Sara let out a long, muffled scream that had him frantically pressing the buzzer, calling for help. The doctor and a midwife came rushing in, but unfazed by his panic and distress quietly checked the readings on the monitor before checking on Sara.

"Okay, Sara, you're ten centimetres dilated," Dr Rodriguez finally announced brightly, "It's time to get started and get this baby out." She made eye contact with Sara, and her calmness and air of authority seemed to permeate the room. "Contractions are strong and you're going to feel the urge to push. When you do…just breathe and give into it." She paused and held Sara's gaze. "This is your last chance to reconsider pain relief, Sara. An epidural would take the edge off."

Sara gave a forceful shake of the head. "No. No epidural," she said weakly, but determinedly. "No IV drugs or injections."

Grissom's expression became pained. "Sara, honey, maybe you should have _some_ pain relief," he argued quietly, clutching her hand to him. Lovingly, he brushed his other hand along the side of her face, wiping sweat and pushing her hair away. "You heard what Dr Rodriguez said, it would take the edge off."

She pinched her lips and gave another, shorter shake of the head. Her grip on his hand intensified. "No. I'm okay." She turned toward the doctor. "Only if there's a problem and you have no choice but to…"

"What about a little Nitrous Oxide?" the doctor suggested.

Grissom frowned. "Laughing gas?" he exclaimed with disbelief.

Refocusing on him the doctor nodded. "I'm sure Sara wouldn't mind sharing with you, Mr Grissom." A roguish smile formed. "It might help you relax a little."

"And the rest," he said in a scoff.

In the end the argument was cut short by yet another blood-chilling contraction. Grissom tried to smile his encouragement but Sara was far from being receptive. His smile faded, his eyes lowering before coming up again and locking with hers. Hers shone with pain and exhaustion but fierce determination too, while his shone with immense love and pride. "You can do this, Sara," his eyes told her, "and I'm right here beside you."

Time after that just went by in blur for Grissom until Dr Rodriguez announced she could see the top of the baby's head. She waited for another contraction, then leaned in further, her hands easing the baby's head out. She told Sara to hold it and pant, and then to give it her all when the next contraction came. Grissom could only watch with amazement as the rest of the baby's body literally slid out of Sara into the doctor's awaiting hands.

"Hello sweetheart," the doctor cooed as the baby took her first breath in a shrill little cry, "Come and meet your mommy and daddy."

The doctor's hands were in the way and from his vantage point Grissom couldn't quite make out if their baby was a boy or a girl. Immediately, the umbilical cord was clamped by the midwife. A wide and very proud smile slowly crept its way across his face, and he could only stare, awestruck and dumbstruck at the tiny, bloodied and vernix-covered body, his baby, his flesh and blood. His heart was beating a happy dance in his chest.

"Dad?" the doctor called, startling him out of his daydream, "You're doing the honours, or shall I?"

Grissom blew out a short breath, then refocused on Dr Rodriguez who was smiling as she held out a pair of surgical scissors to him. Briefly, he glanced at Sara, but she was looking down at the baby with that unique, bleary-eyed look of utter bliss and sheer exhaustion only a mother could have. A shaky hand rose to his face and he rubbed at it before taking the scissors from the doctors and making the cut.

Immediately, the baby was wrapped in a fresh towel, warmed up and cleaned, then placed on Sara's chest. A wondrous smile on her face Sara brought her hand to the tiny hand sticking out of the bundle and offered it her finger, which the baby instinctively clutched. She looked up and met his watery gaze.

"I'm so proud of you," he said, his emotion spilling, "So very proud."

Bending down he pressed his lips to her forehead, then lifted a hesitant hand to their baby, gentle fingers stroking at the head. He had no words to express how he was feeling. His world was transformed. He became another person, a better person, a better man. A father. A powerful and permanent bond was formed, one that could never be broken.

In his daze, he forgot all about asking what the sex of the baby was. A boy, a girl, somehow it didn't seem to matter anymore. They were parents. They had a baby, a beautiful, healthy baby. Their family was complete.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: The quote that comes to Grissom's mind at some point in the chapter is from Elizabeth Stone, professor of English at Fordham University.

This is it, the last chapter to this little story. It could easily have been two chapters it's so long. I hope you enjoy it.

And before some of you ask: yes, I am going to work on the epilogue for _Ships_. ;-)

* * *

Sara was in bed, lying on her side under the sheet, looking down at the baby lying next to her with eyes as soft as her smile. She'd taken to motherhood so well, so quickly and so naturally that already it was hard to imagine her without a baby, that it was hard to imagine their life without their son in it. A son. A smile formed as he remembered the exact moment the doctor had dropped that bombshell. Sara was so certain they were expecting a daughter that she never thought to ask. Her face on hearing the news had been a picture to behold, but as with everything else she's been quick to take it in her stride.

A son, he mused and shook his head, secretly pleased. Not even a day old yet and everything had changed. They'd named him Samuel. Samuel Grissom, it had a nice ring to it. Sara's eyes drifted shut again, only to snap open when she shook herself awake, fighting sleep.

A nurse had come a few hours after birth and shown Sara how to nurse. It had proven tricky at first, and painful, the baby not latching on as well as she'd like, but with the nurse's gentle encouragements and words of advice they'd persevered and Samuel had taken his first feed. Afterwards, they'd been shown how to bathe and care for him, and they'd been quick to learn. Grissom had changed his first diaper while Sara had dressed Samuel in the yellow velour sleeper they'd bought from USA Baby all these weeks ago.

"I don't think I'll ever tire of watching him," she said, drawing Grissom out of his thoughts, and looked up to him with a soft smile.

And again he couldn't help count his blessings. "Me neither," he said, his heart full to the brim of love and contentment. He reached for her hand protectively draped over their sleeping son's chest, and gave it a squeeze. Her eyes closed again, seemingly of their own accord, her head lolling forward. The smile lingered on her lips. "Don't fight it, Sara," he said. "Take five minutes."

"What if he wakes up?"

He smiled at her. "Then you'll be the first person to know." His smile turned mischievous. "Unless, of course, you don't trust me with our son."

"Oh, I trust you," she said tiredly, "You know I do."

He cupped her face gently. "We'll stay right here."

She gave a nod. Her eyes drifted shut once again, and she finally allowed herself a well-deserved rest. Grissom watched her sleep for a long while – watched _them_ sleep side by side for a long while – committing the moment to memory. He was about to move the baby back to his bassinet when he thought better of it, and instead pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, snapping another shot.

Then, he gently lifted the baby from the bed, taking care to scoop his hand under the head and neck to support them. He looked at the bassinet, quirked a brow, and then instead of lowering Samuel in it sat down on the armchair by the bed. Carefully, he laid his son on his lap, facing him, and gazed at him to his heart's content.

"It's just you and me now, buddy," he said after a while. He stole a look at Sara, still soundly sleeping, a wistful smile forming as he thought of how brave she'd been through it all, and refocused on his son. "Your mommy is fast asleep – tired out she is. But it was worth it, wasn't it?"

He reached down, brushing lightly over Samuel's eyes and wondered who they would take after. His fingers trailed down his rounded cheek to his perfectly formed ear and then to the light covering of fine dark hair on his head. He picked up a tight fist and slowly unfurled the fingers, marvelling again at how long and sharp the nails were. The smile of wonderment never left his lips.

He never thought one could love so unconditionally, so absolutely and so fast. A parent's love knows no bounds, he realised then for the first time. _Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous,_ he'd read in one of his book. _It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body._ God, how apropos were these words. Grissom smiled and shook his head and watched his heart beat on his lap.

All through his musings, little Samuel never once stirred and Grissom hoped it was a sign of things to come. He was drifting off when a soft knock on the door roused him with a start. The door opened quietly and Nick popped his head round. His eyes found Sara asleep in the bed and then Grissom a little to the side in the armchair. He smiled.

"Hey," he said in a hushed whisper, his smile widening, "Is this a good time, or do you want us to come by later?"

Nick opened the door wider and Grissom caught sight of Greg behind him. "Come in," he replied, glancing toward Sara still fast asleep. His gaze settled back onto his infant son. He picked him up and cautiously settled him in the crook of his arm. "Come and meet little Samuel."

Nick and Greg exchanged glances, then quietly stepped inside the room with wide smiles. They were holding a present each, which they placed at the foot of the bed. "Brass said to say he's sorry he can't be there," Nick said. "He'll try to come by tomorrow after shift, if they allow."

Grissom gave an absent nod and Nick strode up to him, holding out his arms for the baby. Grissom did a double take in surprise, his hold instinctively tightening around his newborn baby.

"Don't worry," Nick soothed. "I know what I'm doing. I won't drop him. You forget I got three older sisters and plenty of experience."

Grissom pulled a grudging face, but nevertheless pushed to his feet and carefully relinquished his hold of the baby to Nick. "Just mind his head," he said softly.

Nick's face lit up as he gazed at the baby. "Hello, little man," he said, and grinned up at Grissom. "I forget how light they are when they're first born."

"Seven pounds fourteen," Grissom announced proudly. "Neither too small nor too big. Just perfect."

"I'll bet," Nick said in a chuckle. "Evelyn's oldest –Tanya, she's twelve now, or is it thirteen?" Nick frowned then gave his head a shake. "Anyway, she was nine pounds two – nineteen hour labour! She said, never again, but there's been two more since."

Grissom pulled a pained face at what Nick's sister must have endured. "Samuel scored a ten on the Apgar scale," he said, needing to change the topic.

"Did he, now?" Nick remarked wryly.

Greg was looking on at the baby with a wide smile on his face, and reassured to see that Nick indeed seemed to know what he was doing he felt it safe to stand back a little. "Do you want to sit down maybe?"

"No, I'm good," Nick said, lightly rocking the baby. "Congratulation, man, you did good there."

"Yeah," Greg echoed. "He's a good looking little fellow."

Grissom gave a chuckle of embarrassment, but secretly relished all the praise. "Sara did all the work."

"Don't you think he looks just like her?" Greg remarked wistfully. "He's not all red and wrinkly like I was expecting." Grissom fixed the younger man with a baffled stare and Greg lifted a sheepish shoulder. "I haven't come across many newborn babies before."

"How's Sara doing?" Nick asked.

All three men turned toward Sara who stirred just at that moment. No one spoke for a minute, expectantly watching whether she would wake up or not, and when it was clear she wouldn't, Grissom finally answered Nick's question. "She's…doing good," he said, his gaze fond and tender, still a little surprised himself at how quickly she had recovered after the birth. "Tired and sore, but…she was great." Greg turned toward him, surprise evident in his gaze at the candour of his old boss's words, but Grissom wasn't paying attention, so intent he was on watching his wife sleep.

"Anyway," Greg said, breaking the silence, "I went to fetch Hank from your place." He fished inside his coat pocket and pulled out Grissom's house keys, which he held out to him. "I took his bowl and the bag of food as instructed, and walked him round the block a couple of times."

Grissom gave a grateful nod. "Thank you, Greg. Our sitter's on vacation and we don't know how long it's going to be until we get back to a routine."

"It's okay. I don't mind."

"Greg," Nick said after a pause, "you want to have a hold?"

"Oh, I don't know," Greg said quickly. "You forget I'm an only child. I haven't held a baby before."

Grissom smiled. "Neither had I, really, until eight hours ago."

Greg looked at Samuel and nodded his head. "Okay, but I think I'll sit down. Just in case."

Greg sat down and Nick adeptly transferred the baby over, all the while making sure that the head was well supported. After a few minutes Samuel began to cry and a look of panic filled Greg's face. Immediately, Sara stirred. Greg stood up, then unceremoniously returned the baby to Grissom and sauntered over to Sara, while Grissom began pacing the room, trying to soothe the baby into going back to sleep.

"Is it time for a feed already?" she asked groggily, and with a wince pushed herself up in a sitting position.

"I don't know," Grissom replied, feeling a little hot under the collar while Nick tried to suppress a smile.

Greg reached over to help her up, pulling pillows up behind her back, making her comfortable. Then, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Congratulations," he said, "Told you the hot food, hot bath and―" Sara narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head briskly, cutting his words short.

But Grissom wasn't paying attention. "Do you think he needs changing?" he asked Sara, as the baby still whimpered in his arms.

"I think he wants his mommy," Nick said.

Grissom paused, then stared at him before staring at Sara for confirmation. She opened her arms out to the baby and Grissom gently lowered him to her in the crook of her arm. Samuel stopped fussing right away.

"He's a mommy's boy," Nick remarked gravely, causing Grissom's mouth to purse in slight irritation.

"It's to do with smell," Sara replied, placating, "and the sound of my heartbeat. After all this time we got used to one another, haven't we?"

Greg picked up one of the two gift-wrapped presents from the foot of the bed and held it out to Sara. "Is it a good time for presents?" he asked with a giddy smile.

"Sure," Sara said, and taking the proffered gift tried opening it, one-handed. Grissom stepped forward to help. It was clear by the shape that the present was a book and Grissom was touched by the gesture. It wasn't just any book. It was a collection of illustrated children stories that Greg had put together. Grissom opened the book to the first page and read the dedication.

"Most stories are adaptations from Norwegian folktales," Greg explained, "but I've added a little…twist to them." He gave them a shy smile. "I didn't do the art work, the computer did."

Speechless, Grissom looked at Sara. She had tears in her eyes. "I don't know what to say, Greg, it's… beautiful." He refocused on the younger man. "Thank you. We shall treasure it."

Greg smiled and nodded his head, seemingly pleased with their reaction to the gift.

"My present is less…more…well, it's…" Nick shrugged. "We don't all have Greg's talent for storytelling." He sighed, then held out a gift-wrapped box to Grissom. "It's for the two of you."

Grissom pursed his mouth, then turned the package in his hands and slid his fingers in the opening. He discarded the wrapping paper and opened the box. "What is it?" he asked, pulling out a garment made of fabric.

Sara began to giggle. "It's a baby carrier," she told her husband. "One you strap on your chest."

Grissom turned the offending article in his hands and studied it with interest. He heard Sara thank Nick for the gift and he looked up, echoing her words. Nick reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out two envelopes.

"This one's from Catherine," he said, "Lily came by CSI as soon as the word was out." His shoulder lifted as he turned the first envelope in his hand before holding it out to Sara. "Catherine had asked that we called her as soon as the baby was born, so…we did. She says she wants pictures, lots of them and she wishes she could be here."

With a nod, Sara took the envelope and Grissom helped her open it. He pulled out a card. "Congratulations on the birth of your little one," he read, and opened it. His face lit up and he gave a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What is it?" Sara asked with puzzlement.

"It's a day's pass at the Bellagio spa. With unlimited treatments and massages."

Sara's eyes widened at the prospect.

"Wow," Greg said, echoing her thoughts, "maybe I could come too."

Sara's chuckle was warm and sincere. "I was thinking more along the lines that you could babysit while Grissom and I indulge."

Grissom's lips pinched, supressing his smile as Greg's face fell. Nick laughed, then clapped Greg on the shoulder and held out the second envelope. "And this one's for Samuel," he said. "It's from all of us at the lab, even management chipped in, and a few more at PD."

Sara and Grissom exchanged looks of surprise. Nick was grinning when shrugging he held out the envelope to Grissom. With a frown, Grissom slid his finger in the opening and pulled out a cheque for two hundred dollars made payable to Samuel Grissom. Grissom's brow rose. "Wow," he said, looking up, "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"What is it?" Sara asked, craning her neck to see.

"We had a whip-round," Nick explained, while Grissom lowered the cheque to her eye line. "We thought you might want to open a savings account, or something. You know, for when he's older."

"Thank you," Sara said, her gratitude heartfelt and sincere.

Nick and Greg stayed another half-hour before making their retreat. Grissom and Sara could hardly believe how lucky they were to have such thoughtful friends in their lives. Samuel woke up soon after that and while Sara fed him Grissom went in search of a hot drink and nourishment and stretched his legs. He thought it strange that no one had come with cigars and a bottle of scotch, and then remembered Brass hadn't been yet. He returned when Sara had finished feeding. She was holding Samuel to her shoulder, gently rubbing at his back, burping him. The sight warmed his heart. Afterwards, once changed, Grissom returned the baby in the bassinet and helped Sara to the bathroom. He suggested a bath to ease the ever-present soreness, but she was all bathed out.

Maybe now was the time to give her his present, he thought. He helped her back into bed and was about to open the top drawer in the bedside table where he'd stashed his gift earlier when there was another knock on the door and DB Russell showed his face, grinning and carrying a big bunch of flowers in his arms. "I'm on my way to the lab," he said in a quiet whisper, "So I won't stay long. I know you must be tired and all visited-out by now, but… I couldn't resist taking a peek." He paused hesitantly, and Sara waved him in enthusiastically.

Russell stepped inside the room, quietly closing the door after him. Striding to the bed, he craned his neck to look inside the bassinet across Sara before leaning down to buss her on the cheek. He reached over the bed, extending his free hand at Grissom which the latter shook warmly. "Congratulations to both of you," he said. "Although in my experience I find us men get the longest end of the straw."

Grissom gave a half-smile, nodding.

Russell looked at the flowers in his arms, then thrust them at Sara. "These are for you," he said.

"Thank you," Sara said, glancing toward Grissom, "They're lovely."

"I'll see if the nurses can find a vase to put them in," Grissom said, taking the flowers from the supervisor and setting them down on one of the side cupboards.

"And this is from Barbara," Russell added, holding out a well-worn pocket book to Sara. "She said you'd appreciate it." He gave a wince. "I'm not so sure."

Sara's frown slowly formed into a smile as she read the title of the book; _Coping with exhaustion: a guide for new moms_. "It looks well-thumbed," she remarked.

"Oh, it is. _Was_," he amended softly. "Since Barbara won't be needing it anymore she thought…" He shrugged the rest of his sentence off.

"Thank you," Sara said. "What about your daughter, though? Won't she mind me having it?"

Russell's smile was wide when he shook his head. "No, she won't. She's got her mother."

Sara's eyes averted back to the book and she nodded her head.

"That was very thoughtful of her," Grissom said.

Russell's eyes lowered to Samuel and he strode round the bed to the bassinet. "Isn't he a sweetie," he cooed, and stole a glance at Sara, "Just like his mother." Sara gave a small chuckle of disbelief, but her grin was wide and pleasurable. He met her gaze, then Grissom's, before refocusing a wistful look on the baby.

Grissom smiled, taking the hint. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Oh, I don't know," Russell replied, "I wouldn't want to unsettle him. He looks so peaceful, so…" his words trailed off and he looked up. "Can I?"

Smiling, Grissom gently picked up Samuel from the bassinet, placing him in DB's awaiting arms.

"It's not been that long since I last indulged," he said, "but…it never gets old, does it?"

Watching his son proudly, Grissom shook his head. "No, it doesn't," he said.

Russell looked right in his element with a child in his arms, and Grissom hoped that somehow he did too. He glanced at Sara who was watching Russell and her baby with a fond smile. Sensing his gaze on her she looked over to him and her smile broadened. "This is our child," her proud smile told him, "Our child." Grissom reached out his hand to her and taking it she gave it a gentle squeeze. At that moment, the baby seemed to wake. He began to squirm a little and then opening his little mouth wide let out a shrill little cry.

"I think that's my cue," Russell said, laughing as he carefully returned Samuel to Grissom.

Grissom took the baby and tried to settle him while Russell and Sara quietly caught up with each other. Samuel was once again peacefully sleeping in his father's arms when another visitor popped their head round the door. Grissom's face lit up on seeing his mother, standing there, hesitant to come in. Russell and Sara stopped talking, and he noticed Russell turn toward the door.

"Mom!" Grissom exclaimed when Betty looked his way. A very wide and proud smile on his face he lifted the baby slightly up in the air, apologising for not being able to sign.

She batted a hand at him, dismissing his apology, and strode into the room, letting the door shut by itself. "I thought this day would never come, Gilbert," she signed, her eyes shining with happiness.

Grissom lifted a self-conscious shoulder while Sara burst in a quiet chuckle. "You and me both," she signed and said concurrently.

Laughing Betty made a bee line for Sara, leaning down to take her in her arms. Pulling back with a smile she lifted her right hand flat to her chin, then moved it out as she signed, "Thank you. Thank you for giving me a grandson. You made an old woman very happy." She met her son's gaze before continuing, "And I know if he was here, your father would be delighted too."

Grissom's smile faded slightly and he acknowledged his mother's words with a nod. She walked round the bed and gazed at her grandson intently before brushing a trembling finger to the baby's dimpled chin. When she looked up at her son she had tears in her eyes, and he knew how special and long-awaited this moment was for her.

Russell discreetly cleared his throat and Grissom refocused. "DB, I'm sorry. This is my mother," he said, and then looking at his mother, said very clearly, "DB is Sara's boss at CSI."

Betty stared at her son's lips while he spoke. Her brow rose in interest at his words and then she turned toward DB, dipping her head in a nod as she smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Grissom," Russell said, smiling and looking at Betty in the eye as he spoke.

"Nice to meet you too," she said with her hands, which Grissom immediately interpreted.

Russell turned toward Sara. "I'm going to go now. Leave you to share this moment with your family." He hugged Sara goodbye, quietly saying as he pulled back, "Congratulations, Sara. You have a lovely family."

Betty tapped her son on the shoulder, then quickly signed to him words he again interpreted. "DB, you don't have to leave on my mother's account," he said. "She says she'll be quite content holding the baby while we talk."

Russell lifted his hand conciliatorily. "Oh, no, it's perfectly okay," he replied easily, "I was on my way anyway." He turned toward Sara. "And you, don't overdo it, all right? I'll see you soon."

No sooner had the door shut on Russell than Betty's face softened and she held out her arms for the baby before signing quickly, "Can a grandmother have a hold of her precious grandson?"

Grissom looked at the bundle sound asleep in his arms with longing, loathed to hand him over again even to his mother. "Careful with his head," he said clearly, catching her eye so she could read his lips, and held out his son to her.

Betty laughed. "You never forget," she signed, and Grissom gently lowered Samuel in his mother's awaiting arms.

After a moment Betty looked up at them, then lifted one hand to her ear. Sara stared at Grissom inquisitively and he shrugged. "She wants to know if we had the hearing screening test done." It was a blanket test they did to every newborn infant where a miniature earphone and microphone are placed in the ear. Sounds are then played and a response measured. If the baby hears normally an echo is reflected in the ear canal and recorded by the microphone. Even a positive reading wouldn't offer any reassurances about otosclerosis, but he knew this was a very serious concern of his mother's.

"They haven't done the test yet," he said and signed. He looked at Sara. "Let's not worry about all that now, huh?"

Betty nodded then returned her attention to gazing at her grandson. It was only an hour later when visiting hours were over, Betty gone and Samuel asleep in the bassinet that Grissom finally took out his gift from the bedside table, placing it on Sara's lap. Fed up with being cooped up in bed, she was sitting on the armchair.

"It's for you," he said, his smile a little diffident when she looked up at him with puzzlement.

"I don't understand."

His shoulder lifted. "It's from me and Samuel." He met her gaze and smiled. "A small token of our love and gratitude. Open it."

Sara's eyes lowered to the gift bag and she reached inside uncertainly, pulling out a gift-wrapped rectangular box. One eyebrow rose, and she looked up with surprise.

"Open it," he tried again.

Sara stared at him for a moment before delicately pulling the ribbon off. He had spent a long time deciding on the gift and in the end had chosen one that would last the test of time. He had wanted his gift to be a keepsake, a memory of their happy day so that every time she wore it she was reminded of how much she was loved – by him and their son. He watched intently as shaky fingers slowly undid the wrapping and opened the box. He heard a soft gasp, and she looked at him, her eyes shining with tears, her lips pinched together. The smile he gave her was tentative, somewhat expectant.

"Oh, Gil," she said in a murmur, and looked at the gift, "it's beautiful. It's…" she shook her head, clearly at a loss for words.

Gently, Grissom eased the silver charm bracelet out of the box and attached it to her wrist. Two charms dangled from it and Sara reached her free hand to them. "The heart is from me," he explained, "a little cliché, I know, but true love has indeed found you." A tear spilled out of the corner of her eyes and she blew out a breath. His trembling smile widened. "The key is from Samuel."

Sara fingered the charm in the shape of a key. "And the key," she asked in a tremulous voice, "What does it mean?"

"It means that you will have a happy home." His shoulder lifted. "I thought we could add to them every mother's day."

Sara brought her hand to her mouth. Her tears spilled. "Oh, Gil, this is the most…the most considerate, beautiful gift you could have given me."

"So…you don't want to take it back then," he said in a smile. "I kept the receipt just in case."

"No," she said quickly. "No, I love it." She reached out her hand and cupped his face. "I love the thought behind it. I—I love…_you_. And Samuel."

She reached up toward him and smiling he leaned down and met her lips.

"I'm glad I could give you a son," she said when they pulled apart. Grissom's expression must have registered a look of surprise for she gave him a smile and a shrug as she explained, "I know how much a son means to you. I could see how much it meant to your mother too."

"Sara, a daughter would have made me just as happy."

She was about to reply when she paused and stroked his cheek. A smile formed, pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Next time, huh?"

His smile widening he leaned in for another kiss. "Yes, next time."

* * *

The end.


End file.
